Bent
by Calkat
Summary: Namine x Axel Problems are mounting within Organization XIII and Namine is at the center of the uprising. Between imprisonment and inquisitions, Namine plans her escape, but she can't do it by herself. HIATUS
1. Infiltration

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts(any version), nor do I own the subsequent characters.

Bent

Chapter 1: Infiltration

By Calkat

* * *

_There._

A small, pale hand emerged from the corner of his vision pointing to a rusting old mirror at the far end of the blindingly white room.

His squinted his eyes trying to subdue the pain of the radiant light that he knew if exposed to long enough would cause a mammoth headache. Another unwelcome irritation that the fiery red-head could pass on instead of adding it to his life-long, or what little life he had experienced, list of uninvited troubles that had walked the same road as him, along side of him, in fact.

He pulled the dark hood from his cloak over his head, allowing it to droop low enough in the front to hide him in his makeshift darkness. The heavy cloak had other benefits other than announcing your intentions and the nature of your relationship to Organization XIII, a high-ranked member.

But while the cloak singled him out in a crowd, likewise it also protected him. The sanctity that was the protection that the Organization offered once you joined was irreplaceable. It meant that they would protect you no matter the circumstances, a sort of brotherhood code that Axel had come to respect if not appreciate. There had been several occasions when he had rode to the others playing the role of cavalry, but also many situations he had brought upon himself where the others had swiftly come to deal with the problem by means of litigation or other more physical methods.

Axel looked over his shoulder, trying to see if he could find out who the arm belonged to. It would be all a vain attempt, he knew to his disgust, but he would try anyways. He always was a sucker for the hopeless cases.

Nothing but ethereal white light filled his vision, no figure appeared in his view, just another disappointment to add to the list. He had many lists all numbered grimly and dismally high in number.

The only dimness provided in the room that didn't mangle his eyes was the mirror and his black cloak that was trailing along the floor as he again faced the decrepit mirror. He took a few quick steps forward with his heavy boots making heavy sounds that resonated through the floor of the room instead the clacking noise that they would have, should have made in the real world. It was a sound that touched the soul, tugged at it with a feeling of despair, a sound that the Organization prided itself on. The sound could cause an unquestioning fear to rise up in the victim. It felt as if the sound would pull your soul clean out of you if it kept pounding through your ears. Axel wasn't worried, he possessed no soul to worry about losing, but even so Axel felt his pulse rise in his throat with the unconscious feeling of hopelessness, or maybe it was a feeling of resentment.

He would never have a soul to lose. Now, that caused a thread of desolation to wind it's way through him. A soul was just one more thing to lose, he told himself, along with freedom, happiness and hope. All of which he had conceded upon his existence.

'What?' He questioned standing in front of the mirror. It was the same as always and it made the endless fury he possessed rise through him. He still had no reflection in the damn mirror, only the endless white of the room was shown to him. Same as the night before and the night before that, same as it always would be.

Nothingness. A nobody. They were aptly named if nothing else.

And the mirror was mocking him and his pain of non-existence.

A growl rippled over his lips, causing him to lift his chin as far back as he could go, eyes closed.

_Patience,_ the voice chided him, a soft lilt in the soprano voice almost made Axel's anger flare higher, maybe even climb the chimney where only the smoke, the remnants of his anger, should go.

'I have been patient,' Axel shouted, throwing his hands in the air, then he dragging them over his face exasperatedly, the gloves pulling on his skin. He couldn't keep doing this. The white room has to be a torture chamber, he assured himself. Castle Oblivion was just a massive, endless torture chamber.

Axel heard a sigh echo throughout the room, reverberating through him, a ghostlike feeling reaching through his torso. He grabbed his chest with his hand unconsciously keeping one hand free for a weapon, reacting to the stream of sound pulling itself through the center of him. It was unnerving. He waited for another sound or for her to continue talking to him, but nothing happened as he scanned the room around him. Nothing but white. Nothing but silence.

He kept his hand at the ready to summon his chakram.

'Let me out, I'm not getting anywhere by being stuck here, I'll accomplish nothing.' he yelled spinning abruptly, his cloak flying in a circle behind him, a semblance of anger. Why would he want to look into something that held nothing, only infinite white abyss?

_Please look harder._ There was no source to the voice, it was echoing inside of his mind, not inside of the walls, this white prison. His pulse sped slightly at the thought that someone had the power to enter the sacred ground of a mind, his mind.

He had no heart, a given, he had no soul, fine with him, but his mind, he raged, **_that is mine._**

_Please forgive my trespass, s_he offered and after a brief moment of dizziness he envisioned her bowing her blond crown in submission to him in his mind. To say it appeased his sense of superiority was a slight understatement. Axel fed off of dominance issues, he was a goddamn handbook on the superiority complex, he knew it and accepted it. Next issue, please.

Axel thought that being obstinate would have been his first choice, dragging out her pitiable requests, make her beg for his help, but he relented at the sound of pleading from her melancholic voice. She was a sly and crafty being in her obviousness, but she had no Machiavellian fixations that he knew of.

He surveyed the room again and finding nothing else, approached the mirror that really couldn't have been a mirror in his mind. After all, he had no reflection.

I have no heart, he argued, but I am a corporeal being and that can't be taken away from me…..easily.

His eyes slid upwards at the metal mirror gauntlet. It was tall, Axel thought as he approached the only other physical object in the room. He touched it just to make sure that it was real and not another illusion in a world that he had grown accustomed to. At one time, he could tell that it had once been a silver plated mirror, but now either time or lack of care had tarnished the metal and left it as copper-colored frame, with sizeable pieces flaking off.

The mirror towered over him by nearly three feet, the sides were considerably skinny compared to the haltering height it possessed. He leaned against it, propping one arm on the edge, not worrying that he might break the brittle framing of the mirror. So be it. Good riddance if he broke the worthless mirror.

He tilted his head at the mirror, glaring at it and then when nothing happened rolled his eyes at the sorry mirror. Even at this proximity, Axel bore no reflection; the glass was unable to reflect the snarl that was curled into his lips.

'What now?' He ordered, pounding a fist against the rusty mirror's edge. A platinum glow emitted from a spot toward the left side of the mirror and he would have missed it had the light not glinted in his eye obnoxiously. He swept a finger over the glass that was cool to the touch. The room darkened briefly before lighting up again.

_Ow, _the tiny voice squeaked. Axel shrugged and smirked, enjoying the little game that had started. He had found the source of the voice, no matter how microscopic it was.

He ran his finger over the glowing spot and again the light dimmed.

_Enough,_ she yelled, sounding peevish and slightly perturbed at the fact that Axel was demonstrating his more sadistic side at her expense.

Axel choked out a laugh, his breath catching noticeably when he noticed the glass in the mirror start to shake and resound with his laughter. He quieted and traced the edge of the metal again, the rough metal brushing over his bruised and calloused fingers that was due to his last assignment for the Organization. Falling off of the summit of a mountain had definitely not been a part of his original plan.

The mirror is reacting to me, he thought.

_Good. Work with that idea, _she coaxed, _you're so close. _Her voice was a desperate whisper, a plea or possibly a praise for his efforts.

'Well, help me,' he muttered, squatting on the floor in front of the mirror for a moment before planting himself on the ground, his chin resting between his thumb and forefinger.

Close, huh? He thought. The mirror shuddered and the light in the mirror grew slightly, larger and he felt the response of the mirror echo through his head. Excitement, but it wasn't his. The hair on his arms stood up.

Maybe….

'Closer,' he commanded. The mirror trembled again, unsettling the feet that supported the base of the metal, the feet clattered against the ground. He projected the thought in his head to continue the command until he was satisfied. The dot grew larger, large enough that he had to stop himself from gasping at what he saw.

'Naminé,' he breathed, but it sounded more like 'eh' rolling out of his mouth, stifled from his shock. He stood up abruptly and took a few broken steps backwards, stumbling over his feet before regaining his balance. Awkward at first, but more sturdy after a second, he stood erect at his full height, no longer hunched over.

Naminé's platinum head and willowy form clothed with a simple white dress appeared in the mirror, full-sized. Her hands were pasted to the face of the mirror before she resumed pounding the surface.

_Axel, _she yelled seemingly panicked. It was out of place for Naminé to yell and it raised suspicions in his mind. Axel could feel her racing pulse in the back of his mind. He assumed that it was the effects of the mirror.

_Axel, tell me that you can see me! Please, see me! _ Axel remained fixed to the spot, his eyes slightly wider than normal. It wasn't every day that someone-- correction, nobody—dreamed about Naminé and if they did, it was normally because she was going to mess with their mind, a terrible event, memories were all they had. Well, most of them at least.

Axel pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, making sure that he wasn't imagining anything.

He sighed, a resigned feeling washing over him. He was smart enough to know that if Naminé had invaded his mind that it was already too late to stop her from messing with his memories.

With one hand on his face and the other arm carefully supporting it, Axel said, 'Naminé, of course I see, _how could I miss you?' _It came out more hostile than he had planned, but refraining from expressing his anger seemed a little past the point of saving himself from her clutches.

He could see it now, the white little faux-angel forcing the static to claim him until they, or whoever had sent her, were satisfied, sucking the memories and what little knowledge he possessed leaving a shell of his former self. It was degrading, it was miserable. A sickeningly sweet little smile plastered to her face, completing the feigned look of innocence that she hardly deserved.

Axel raised his flaming red head to scowl at her, noticing that she had a hand clutched to her chest, a look of hope blooming on her features. Her other hand lay against the mirror, a pleading gesture.

Wait, hope? He was in trouble now.

'Naminé, why are you here?'

_Not now, I promise I will explain later, but please listen, _she pleaded kneeling in front of the mirror and bowing her head. Her eyes, he thought, the sadness and urgency in them, irked him slightly, more because of the fact that she never betrayed any emotion other than her mask of indifference and now she was practically a pinwheel of emotions.

_Axel, I need your help. They are forming a plan to use me against the organization._

'Why should I care what happens to the organization?' He said carefully, crossing his arms in a defiant motion reminiscent of callousness. He eyed her reaction, she merely continued on.

_They plan on staging a coup, they want to take over the organization, over you, how can that mean nothing to you? _When he didn't answer, she pushed forward. She had to spur him into action, but how. A spark flew, the wheels turning in her head.

_Axel, _she said calmly, _if you don't help me, I can't save Roxas, I can't save the nobodies._ Axel's head jerked up in response, meeting her eyes and scrutinizing her. Was she lying? He couldn't tell and probably would never be able to. After all, she was Naminé.

The room dimmed and he saw Naminé quickly glance over her shoulder, a gesture that looked scared and paranoid. Of what, Axel thought.

Her blond hair swung around again and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly. Axel offered his hands in the air as a sign of innocence.

'Not me, I didn't do that.' He said, raising an eyebrow. Maybe she had done it in reaction to something he had said, or done, or maybe something he had not said.

_I have to go, _the thought echoed through his head. _I will speak to you again soon, please expect me and don't take nearly as long to find me. Now that you know how to work the mirror it shouldn't take so long._

Lightning quick, Axel found himself against the mirror, pounding the crystal glass.

'You br—' He was stopped abruptly as her impassive face became translucent, a feat in the white chamber. 'Hey! Come back,' he yelled.

Axel upper lip curled in a sign of annoyance. Her message had been so condescending, so superior. Hadn't he mentioned somewhere that he had a mammoth superiority complex?

He hated her words and he was ready to give the girl a piece of his mind had she not faded completely from behind the mirror.

Striking the mirror again, Axel felt something catch in his sternum, an uncomfortable and awkward feeling. The whiteness brightened until he couldn't see anything anymore, shutting his eyes protectively.

The feeling in his sternum jerked suddenly pulling him out of the white world and threw him violently back into reality. A message from Naminé or the repercussions of passing back into the physical plane, perhaps?

He found himself back in his chamber laying in his four-poster bed, the sheets all askew from what he assumed was his aggressive thrashing. It couldn't be avoided, he shifted a lot in his sleep despite the fact that he practically trapped himself under the sheets.

This was the fourth night in the past two weeks that he had envisioned that ugly and rustic mirror. Now, he had progress. He didn't believe in recurring dreams for no reason, so there had to be some purpose to it.

Axel ran his hands over his chest feeling for any injuries that he might have incurred, running his hands over his shoulders and down his arms. The only difference he noticed from the time he had gone to sleep to his awakening now was the fact that he thought himself as some sort of pedophile for dreaming about the 15 year-old( in reality 1-year old) memory witch.

He groaned and sat up slowly, gingerly because of his aching sides. Four yellow and green bruises marred his chest and left side, memories of his latest excursion to the Land of Dragons. Shan-Yu was not the easiest man to deal with, he could attest to that. Hell, his trip off the side of a mountain could attest to that.

He felt the power of the cooling system at work when the air fell over him in a chilly rush. His preferred his room cold, colder than most opted for, but only because he had an elevated body temperature compared to other people. He assumed it was because of his affinity with fire that his body was adjusting to help him cope with the power.

Axel placed a hand at his side, wincing slightly and glanced at the ominous, glowing numbers that were floating to his left. It was a ghostly clock developed by Vexen who had an endless need for experimentation and creation to test his skills no matter how trivial the task. Like the clock.

4:23 a.m. blinked at him and filled his green gaze, causing Axel to groan again. He rolled off the bed which emitted a dull creak under his weight and headed to the door where his cloak was hanging by the door. Staring at it for a moment, he thought about the meaning and weight behind taking up an Organization XIII cloak.

Although he was probably in a more stable lifestyle under the organization, he had also placed himself in more danger and threatening situations under the same group. Was the price of the cloth worth it? Undertaking everything that went along with their end goal? Axel wasn't so sure, but he knew in the end he was out for himself and that thought was more comforting than anything else and probably kept him safer. The organization was secondary, but even with that prominence in his life, was it worth saving according to Naminé's wishes? Had that dream even happened?

He didn't know, but with the throbbing headache that was beginning to form and the sleep that he knew he would be deprived of tonight— this morning— he was going to find out.

* * *

Thanks for reading this. Hope you enjoyed it. Pitching ideas at me is allowed and appreciated, I honestly don't mind. If you like it stick around and see where this turns out.

Later on this will venture into AU territory, but will stick with the theme of heartless/nobody theme, but with a separate storyline.

Cal


	2. Captivity

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts(any version), nor do I own the subsequent characters.

Bent

Chapter 2: Captivity

By Calkat

* * *

Although Naminé had been in this type of situation before, she swore to herself that she would never get used to it. In Castle Oblivion, there were two norms that never varied and never strayed. Those two constants were the brilliant white light which she didn't mind so much and the several organization members that continually prowled the corridors.

Like Murphy's law and her current situation, they were always in effect. Tilting her head to the side, Naminé felt her neck pop uncomfortably, the sore joints relieving the pressure from being cramped for too long.

Naminé couldn't remember the last time that she had been left alone and not under the watch of either Marluxia or one of the lower forms of nobody, the dusks.

Staring at her wrists' she suddenly felt the pain dawn on her. They were aching from the crude way that she had been bound, the ropes fixed tightly without remorse. She wanted to rub them out desperately, but with her hands bound wrist to wrist, palms facing each other, with nylon cords, it wasn't even an option.

Even worse was that Marluxia had demonstrated his sadistic side tonight when he had added to her discomfort.

He had placed her wrists behind her head and attached a rope in front of her neck, so if she budged an inch, she would gag or choke herself.

She ventured a glance at Marluxia who was on the opposite side of the room seated in an off-white rocking chair reading an unidentifiable book. On mad scheming, on torture? Both were disconcerting thoughts.

That and maybe the added annoyance of numb arms made her slightly more grouchy and even more disheartened in her present situation. She had barely woken minutes ago and unfortunately, with the beginnings of a dull, throbbing headache forming in her left temple.

It had probably been caused by the impact that had knocked her out.

"_What is the cause for the frightened face, witch?" Marluxia said calmly, watching as Naminé backed away from him with widened eyes, her mouth slightly ajar. He narrowed his eyes at her. Had she heard his conversation in the other room with Larxene? The room was supposedly soundproof, but he couldn't take any chances._

_Naminé panicked. _

_She hadn't prepared herself for the accidental contact and the myriad of images and ideas that had flooded her head. It took a moment before the jumble of images became coherent thought. She gasped against her own will and mentally admonished herself. Controlling her emotions came easy to her, but when something truly caught her off guard she had no defense. _

_He took a measured stride towards her causing her to jump and withdraw sharply. Abruptly, she turned and with short, quick strides took off down the hall as fast as her small body would go._

_He caught her easily, crushing her small body to the wall with an angry force. The wall shook._

_Her body deflated from the impact, sagging to the ground. Marluxia sometimes forgot how fragile the little girl was. She was arched against the wall, her knees folded beneath her in a pitiable position. She really was such a small girl._

_He bent down by her and rolled her over expecting her to be unconscious, but her eyes were half-lidded in a battle for staying awake. Quicker than he expected, her eyes focused on his and he realized that it was all an act. Her chilly blue eyes met his eyes with an icy anger before she kicked out both her feet into his gut and slammed her open handed fist into his chin. His head jarred upwards with a sharp clack of teeth._

_Naminé scrambled to her feet and dashed around the closest corner running for supposed safety to any member of the organization. All she had to do was get there before she got caught. Naminé was hopeful that her surprise assault had in the very least dazed Marluxia, at least long enough to run the corridors of the castle and find someone. Anyone._

_Her breathing became heavy as she rounded another corner, the hall was just as decorated as the last. Ornate chairs tinted blue and grey in the hard light lined the walls matched with a long throw carpet that extended down the 40-yard hall. Along the walls, dark blue and sliver tapestries hung, sticking out vibrantly against the lifeless background._

_That's when Naminé noticed how the edges of her vision were starting to blur, the royal blue fabric of the wall tapestries started to fade into one another like water colors running together and mixing._

_Naminé squinted her eyes shut tightly, feeling like a curtain of sleep was being pulled over her. She fought to open her eyes, barely able to open them a sliver, but enough to provide slight vision. She had considerably slowed and was now teetering dangerously sideways, but as if she couldn't control her own body that was rebelling against her, she fell over, her head connecting with one of the chairs. _

_Her hope died within the darkness._

Inhaling deeply and trying to relax her mind, Naminé focused her mind, trying to regain the composure she normally possessed. Maybe the shock to her skull had thrown something off because she couldn't concentrate and it bothered her. Through clouded vision, Naminé steadied herself long enough to take in her would-be prison. In the center of the room, in a sunken pit, she noticed a hazy grey-blue rug on the floor lined with various patterns resembling the nobody's insignia. She edged towards it, suddenly drawn to the soft fabric that she hadn't been allowed. Glimpsing to her left at the north end of the room were two round podiums and a bookcase with only one shelf lined with books.

_Slim pickings considering there are seven other rows, _she thought.

The room wasn't dark or dank as a captive would normally expect, but if they intended for her to stay there long-term then wouldn't they at least provide a bed or some form of comfort. No, that was expecting too much generosity. But she was hopeful, having never played an unwilling captive before. Maybe a blanket wouldn't be asking too much.

Marluxia, who was assured that Naminé now posed a potential threat because she knew of the plans he had been formulating, had now been keeping her in lock down for the past day and a half.

All due to her slip up.

Naminé hadn't made any intentions of messing with any organization member's memories, but occasionally when she touched people their memories seeped into her. Such was the case where Marluxia had grabbed her roughly by the front of her dress for his amusement like normal and had accidentally brushed Naminé's chest.

So in effect, Marluxia's thoughts had transferred to Naminé's consciousness, her eyes had widened frightfully, her instincts kicked in and she had tried to run. Bad decision number one.

Marluxia, with all the hints and indications of what Naminé had done, such as knowing she could leech information out of people and the fact that she had ran away terrified, had clued him in.

Now Naminé berated herself because in the end it was her fault that she hadn't been able to contain her reaction. When would she learn to completely steel herself? She assured herself that when she learned how to be completely stoic, it would serve as an advantage to herself. Perhaps save her life one day.

_And now, _she thought, resting her forehead against the wall, _I am stuck here._

This was the second time Naminé had awoken since she found out of Marluxia's plans. The first she had made a grave error in speaking to Marluxia in such an arrogant way.

"_Comfortable?" Marluxia asked far too nicely. Nicer than Naminé knew he was capable of._

_Gathering her wits as quick as she could muster them, Naminé thought of the best way to get herself out of this mess._

"_Brave move, hurting a harmless girl," she bit. She gestured to her bindings. "Worried that I'll overpower you?" She asked calmly. He just smiled, raised a palm and made a weird gesture to her. It looked like he was blowing a kiss. She really must have been hallucinating. It didn't matter, hallucinating or not, Marluxia would never do something as facetious as blowing a kiss at her._

_The dizzying feeling overtook her again as the world spun. _Fight it, _she urged herself._

_She fell over sideways, her head cradled against her shoulder this time. She saw Marluxia snapping a cord between his fingers before starting towards her._

Help, _a desperate notion in her mind rang out. A cry escaped her numb lips when she thought that this was finally it. He was going to kill her. The blackness started to overwhelm her._

At least, I won't feel it all end, _she thought._

Naminé cringed at her last thought as she thought of herself wallowing in self-pity. It was pathetic that she hadn't fought to save herself when she thought that she might have died. She had given up, accepted it and hid from it.

Coward.

Grimacing, Naminé thought about her useless snide remark. Without it, her hands, although painfully bound, would not have been in such an uncomfortable situation saddled at her neck.

A sigh made the cord synch around her neck slightly causing her to cough. Marluxia lifted his head and looked towards her, nearly impassive, save for the muscles pulling at the edge of his lips formed a small smile.

In the silence around them, it was disturbing to say the least that this man was in the same room with her and he was… mad at her.

It was so juvenile to say 'mad at her,' but it was the truth. Displeased didn't cover the quiet anger that was like an energy filling the room. And perturbed didn't quite express the animosity he was relaying.

Regretting the fact that she had made a noise that had attracted his attention, she tried to return to her corner of self-pity and contemplation. Under the curtain of her hair, she watched as he earmarked the book and placed it on the floor gently. He stood up with a rustle of fabric and approached her with measured steps that made her curl up into a protective ball. Her pulse sped when she realized just how dangerous and unprotected she was without any defense in the way of her hands.

The purpose of her hands bound to her neck was beginning to sink in, causing her mind to race with several bad scenarios, all ending with her hurt or worse, dead.

"Sit up, Naminé," he said with no hint of the animosity that she had been expecting. She grit her teeth, determined not to be accommodating after he had left her in such a painful position for the last few hours. She felt Marluxia's foot nudge her side, trying to unfurl the ball that was Naminé.

"Naminé." Her name became a warning. She imagined the next warning would be a kick to her stomach or side, an unpleasant thought that made her muscles clench in reaction. She didn't want him to mistake her look of fear for a look of defiance, which he might have happily done to cause her further anguish.

Naminé took several deep breaths, trying to calm her heartbeat and finally, with slow deliberate movements looked up at him.

He was staring at her, a hand on his chin in a thoughtful manner, squatting by her at eyelevel. His hair fell in front of his face, a mock vale of darkness. He was thinking about something, focusing so hard that she felt like he was looking right through her. She turned on her ankles, facing him as a brave victim which was better than the coward who had resigned herself to death.

_Brave victim, _she laughed at herself. _Such a mockery term._

Quietly Marluxia said, "I didn't think you condoned violence let alone used it, witch." Marluxia watched for a reaction, but the same resistance that she normally possessed had returned, that stoic demeanor.

"I didn't think you were a pedophile." Her face was impassive, giving the impression that she wasn't accusing him of anything, just insulting him.

He set his arms on his knees and pushed, rising from his squat. He was walking away from her, but she knew it was only to pace the good-sized room. On cue, he turned, coming towards her again. A belt at his hip caught her attention, particularly the glass that was attached to it.

Finally, she had noticed something useful. Those cloaks were meant to be deceiving and useful to hiding things, whether it be your identity or say a few vials of Marluxia's plant cuttings.

"We both know that's not why you're here." He said. Naminé bristled. The most dangerous people out there were not the violent ones who act quick and rashly. No, the most dangerous were the ones who had the forethought to plan out, who didn't rush, but gauged and noted everything. A calm and calculated bad guy was the worst. She studied him for a moment, noticing that down to the way that he walked, everything was pre-thought out.

It was to say the least disheartening.

"How long will you hold me here?" She asked realizing that he had nothing to say to her. The first step was to get him talking, then get the important details like where she was. In all of Castle Oblivion, she had never seen a room like this.

He said nothing.

"Where are we?"

Silence.

Naminé, with some help from the adjacent wall, stood up. Marluxia failed to notice. Slowly, she approached the bookcase, waiting for him to stop her. It took her several steps, stumbling slightly from her overbalancing with the numb weight attached at her throat. Well, if he wasn't going to stop her, she was going to explore every inch of her prison and then find a way out. Maybe even a weapon. She looked over her shoulder and saw the massive glaive of a weapon resting against the rocking chair.

Then again, maybe she should just find a quick exit.

Naminé tapped the book shelf with the edge of her sandal, finding that the solid oak was just as heavy as she had figured. Even if the door was behind here, there was no way that she could muscle the large oak out of the way. _Great. _She set her head on the side of the shelf, listening for air rushing from behind the bookcase. Nothing. Well, she was grateful that it wasn't there. Having your exit rubbed in your face would have been terrible and knowing that you couldn't get to it would have made it worse.

Bright light filled the room, edging into Naminé's peripheral vision. She spun, facing whatever it was. A figure clad in the organization cloak was next to Marluxia now, kneeling or maybe the figure had fallen from a jump and had softened the landing. Naminé look upwards, scanning for an exit, but there was only a skylight to be seen, the dark sky was the only softness in the room.

She gasped, her thoughts back on track. A member of the Organization was in the room, maybe on Marluxia's side, but maybe not. It was a chance she was willing to take. Either way, her disappointment couldn't sink any lower. She'd either still be stuck in captivity or she would be free.

"Hey!" The two members turned towards her. She fell to a knee, trying to move closer. Righting herself quickly, she stumbled towards them.

"Help!" Her voice was louder than her normal level of low to nonexistant. Marluxia stood with a frightening speed, surprising Naminé. He reached inside of his cloak withdrawing what Naminé thought was one of his vials. Her eyes widened and she jerked to the left intent on making it underneath the wooden table, a small sanctuary from him. Too little, too late.

He threw it at her. She dodged to her left and crouched close the floor, making herself a smaller target. Overcompensating her weight and momentum sent her flying onto her rear in plain sight and made her an easy target. Panicking, she scrambled as fast as she could, pushing with her elbows to get off of the floor. Being tied this way didn't make it easy. Naminé glanced up, trying to spot Marluxia again; She made ready to dodge, her muscles tensing when a vial shattered on her chest. He was far too fast for her; she never stood a chance.

As it connected with her chest, it broke, enveloping her in a cloud of dust. It was a small blow, not enough to even make her cough, but what it produced was the desired effect. What felt like dirt started to float into her nose and mouth, covering her tongue and throat with an odd film.

_The powder. No!_

The dizzying feeling that she had experienced earlier when he had first caught her over took her again, but she lowered herself to the floor this time, easing her eventual downfall. She didn't need anymore concussions. At least, she knew what those vials did. Or at least one of the vials did.

A small and pitiable discovery considering her circumstances. Discovering the door to the room would have been more… useful.

The member who had appeared in the room didn't react, meaning that they had to be in league with Marluxia. Two traitors! Who'd have thought?

_Obviously not you. You're too stupid to not get caught up in people's power plays,_ Naminé's conscience said angrily. _You never notice. For once, just once save yourself! Rely on yourself. Get yourself out of these bad situations._

Naminé's thoughts flitted to Axel, the eighth member of Organization XIII. It made sense now. He was just another member of their despicable order. No one was here to help her. Of all the people in her short life span, Organization XIII was the most deceitful and conniving of all. And here she was trusting one of them to help her. At least now, she had an advantage. She knew and _recognized_ that she was being used again. Twice all at once. Now, when she woke up again, she would do something about it.

_Yeah, when I wake up,_ a defeated laugh rang through her mind.

The stranger approached her. Reeling from the powder, Naminé hit the floor, her cheek brushing against the scratchy carpet. The stranger said something to her, but it only vibrated through Naminé's ears, allowing her to understand that they had said something, not what they had said. It didn't make any sense.

Then she saw the cloak lift at the bottom and a leather boot emerged.

She watched as the boot flew towards her face.

* * *

Groggily Naminé shifted, moaning as she clutched her skull, and waiting for the pain to split her head apart. But it didn't.

She actually felt comfortable situated on the floor and thought better of moving just incase the headache would start with a vengeance. She put a hand to her head, remembering the events with Marluxia. Damn, damn, damn.

"Don't think too hard, Naminé. Might hurt yourself." Naminé rolled onto her hands and knees quickly, and blinked hard trying to clear her foggy vision.

The red blur in Naminé's vision formed into Axel's face merely inches from her own. She gasped and collapsed backwards sitting on her feet, not used to the proximity of anyone.

_No_, _not you, Axel._ She thought. Axel was the cloaked member who had come to her prison. She had been formulating the possibility of using Axel to maker her escape easier. Now, he was in league with Marluxia, that made manipulating him more difficult tenfold.

A desperate cry struggled to make its way out, but Naminé suppressed the urge, her eyes focused on the floor. She had to stay stoic, otherwise the fragments of her broken plan might show through.

_Of all the people, I managed to pick the one member who was working with Marluxia. Of all the idiocy in this world, you are the worst, Naminé._

"Axel, you're the one with Marluxia?" Her voice lost its solidarity halfway through when she lost her hope. She couldn't believe it. Then again, with her luck, anything was possible.

Murphy's law, right?

"Me work with Marluxia?" Axel laughed, making the desolation that was forming in Naminé's head worse tenfold.

Her throat clenched tightly, causing a small noise to emerge, one of hope diminishing. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry! How could she have been so stupid?

Axel seeing her face, how she was starting to breathe harder and on the verge of crying, tried to calm her. Dealing with a rampant and unstable 15-year-old wasn't on the menu today.

"Not that it is a bad idea," he said thoughtfully. "But what do you mean by working with Marluxia?"

Naminé paused her breakdown and let out a shaky breath. "Wha— there was another memb— You were in the room, and now you're here…Where's Marluxia?" She stopped, taking everything in and then it dawned on her. The room around her was exactly the same as her captive room. It was completely unchanged.The bookshelf, the tapestries, the table, the two podium's, the couch….

She looked up. White ceiling. No skylight.

"You're in my subconscious." She traced her words slowly. "You made it past the mirror before I got here?" She said still shaken from her mistake.

A smirk appeared on his face, he was very pleased with himself. "I told you that I learn quickly, right? You better believe it." She closed her gaping mouth. He was more cunning than she gave him credit for.

"How long have you been waiting?" she asked, taking in two deep breaths, not caring if she looked upset to him. She just needed to steady herself. She needed to be back in control of herself.

Naminé swallowed past the lump in her throat. He put a hand on his chin in an exaggerated gesture. "Axel," she prompted. A lazy smirk emerged on his face.

"Two hours, maybe less." He shrugged, not that he'd been counting. She added the time together in her mind. Axel had gotten access to her mind for two hours meaning that she had to have been unconscious for that long. But she hadn't subconsciously appeared here for two hours either meaning that she must have been seriously hurt past the point of being under her subconscious when Ax—whoever had kicked her in the face.

"Time to get down to business, sleeping witch." She grimaced at the name. It was tacky.

"Who do you think the other member was?" Axel said.

Namine closed her eyes trying to visualize the dark face.

Nothing.

_This might take a while._

_

* * *

_

Axel shifted from the chair, amber lighting filtered across his face from the makeshift fire that was dying in the fireplace. He wrinkled his nose and yawned, realizing that after each visit from Naminé's subconscious he was more tired after his sleep than he had been before.

He was going to have to start cutting down on her long-winded visits. Not that she was the particularly talkative one, but they always had a lot to discuss. The most recent visit had planted an idea in his head, a particularly clever idea that Naminé had accidentally produced from her frantic ramblings after she had arrived in the dream world.

She had faded into the room, looking like her subconscious was slowly letting her in trying not to harm her. Her face was twisted in an uncomfortable way, looking hurt and angry.

He had paced the floor waiting for the next hour for her to wake up, but she just lay there. Maybe he should wake her up. He approached her, tired of the waiting game, he had been far too patient for his liking.

With his approach, Axel felt a small barrier around Naminé before he saw it. A faint blue glow kept him at bay for a moment before he forced his way through it.

Her mind was protecting her from something, but Axel couldn't tell what. After all, it was a fairly weak barrier, so if it had meant to serve some other purpose other than keeping him away, it was hidden. Her fingers twitched as he moved through the barrier, letting him know that his presence was affecting the barrier tied to her.

Her face was pressed into the ground hiding most of it in the long fabric of the rug. Slowly, lazily, her eyes opened and she rubbed her face in the floor seeking its comfort once again.

He lowered himself into a squat by her, smirking at the fact that she had no idea he had made his way so close unnoticed. Her eyes were closed, as her hand rose to her face, looking like she was scolding herself from some remembered event.

"Don't think too hard, Naminé. Might hurt yourself." He said slyly.

Naminé jerked to her hands and knees, eyes wide with shock, a terror flitting over her face.

She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision. She let out a disgruntled noise of being awoken in such a manner. He wondered if she even had noticed that she had made a noise.

Naminé's eyebrows dropped, furrowing in anger or maybe a depression. She looked so torn between self-disgust and outward agony. Maybe a combination of the two.

"Axel, you're the one with Marluxia?" Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her.

_Marluxia? What? Him with that scheming and annoying bastard. No way in hell. Then again, this might have a appeal._

"Me work with Marluxia?" She looked up after her gaze had lost itself in the floor. Her light eyes held a despondent light in them.

"Not that it is a bad idea."

That thought had turned the wheels in his head with a nearly violent force. So here he was relaxing on the couch with the light dying and his back aching from sleeping in an upright chair.

He got up and raised an eyebrow.

Marluxia was situated at the ocher bar, casually tipping a liquid into a saucer and then swallowing it down in one gulp.

Axel meandered towards Marluxia, keeping his steps quiet, but loud enough to let the other member know that he was there. It was a kind of safety rule for being around each other. Several of the members were jumpy and easy to lash out, so unless you wanted to get hurt, you made your presence known.

"Axel," Marluxia drawled, rolling the name comfortably. He flipped his hand at the chair lazily. "Take a seat." Axel did so and Marluxia pushed a saucer in his direction. Axel inclined his head and kept silent.

They sat there for a few minutes, taking in the warmth of the firelight and the warmth of the alcohol.

"You know," Marluxia started after a few moments, "you still owe me drink after I saved your ass from that bear-like heartless. The one from Hollow Bastion," he said conversationally.

Axel nodded. "And the bat whose head I removed right before it swiped your own head?"

Marluxia scratched his chin. "Forgot about that one. What about that crazy girl from Grillony?" He smirked. "She stole your chakram and could have leveled her town before the heartless got there. How would the organization feel if I hadn't saved you from that blunder?" Axel snorted, running his finger over the rims of the saucer, waving a hand when Marluxia offered him more.

"Yeah, remember the pixies and how they knocked your ass out cold. I scorched those nuisances and then finished your mission while you slept." Marluxia rolled his head towards Axel, frowning.

"The pixies didn't get me, the four blobs spewing fire are what nailed me," he defended.

Axel grinned. "Sure."

Marluxia didn't. "Fine, we'll call it even."

Axel shrugged. "Even," he said dismissively. Marluxia raised his glass and tipped the drink into his mouth.

"You know Xemnas is going to use Sora against us? Against the organization?" Marluxia said, eyes forward, focusing on the twilight of the sun beginning to peak over the edge of the nearby mountains.

"I know." Axel said calmly. Marluxia thought he heard resignation in his voice, but couldn't be sure.

"There is something that I have been meaning to talk to you about…" Marluxia started.

Axel interrupted. "Me too."

* * *

Good point to end as their conversation is going to be a long one. At least, I think it will be long. Hell, I don't really know. Who cares about their boring drabble? I do, I have it written, but it's far too long and too detailed that it would give away everything to the plot.

Sorry for the lack of Axel. I'll do better next chapter.

Reviews and criticisms are appreciated, but not necessary. How can I become better if I don't have the help? Emails are a welcome way of communication as well.

Calkat


	3. Breaking the Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts(any version), nor do I own the subsequent characters.

Bent

Chapter 3: Breaking the Girl

(of her delusions)

By Calkat

Thanks for the support from Rei Azayahi, my first reviewer. I appreciate your words.

* * *

They were in the white dream arena again. Axel was in his normal spot, reclined on the couch, looking far too comfortable in the middle of her serious situation. Naminé was across the room, standing near the rocking chair, nudging it with her sandal every now and again to pass time. This was the closest they had gotten in the dreams. Axel on one side of the room and Naminé on the other, but she had no intentions of being the one to close the distance.

"How did you find the dream without my direction? I admit," Naminé paused, not wanting to boost his ego, but too curious to let it go. She met his eyes, and scratched her temple, a frown forming on her face. "Finding the right path to my personal… area is no easy task."

Axel didn't respond right away. He stayed silent as he formulated a response that would make sense.

He stood, cracking a couple joints from being in one position too long and rolled his neck to the side. Unzipping his cloak, he sagged his shoulder, letting it slip off to the side. Naminé averted her eyes as Axel dropped the cloak. She wasn't used to Axel's dressed-down look. Maybe she just wasn't used to Axel.

Naminé tucked her chin into her shoulder, and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. Underneath, he wore a black tank top and plain black pants. Both were no surprise, but they were much more flattering than the stupid cloak, at least in her opinion. He was handsome, no doubt, but he was also a part of the organization. Having dangerous thoughts about a dangerous person was not advised.

She had never been around any of the organization members for an extended amount of time with the exception of DiZ and sometimes Vexen. Still, with Vexen, she was always under a machine and DiZ was kind of old for her taste. Plus he covered his entire face with red cloth and belts. It was weird, even for Organization XIII.

Now for the first time, she was in the presence of some decent looking guy and it was affecting her. It was… disappointing.

She looked up at him, hoping that her traitorous thoughts hadn't shown on her face. She was already having problems dealing with him,

"Your dreams," he started, "have their own kind of taste to them. Like I can feel your presence in the back of my mind when I'm here. You're a very imposing figure you know, mental-wise." He teased.

"I'm only imposing because you all are frightened about what I can do to your minds," she confessed.

"Maybe."

* * *

"There were two of them?" He questioned, remembering what she had said earlier.

"Yes, Marluxia and the other I couldn't tell. When I woke, I thought it was… Marluxia started to yell at the other one and then he knocked me out again. He used one of those vials that he has tucked under his coat pocket."

"Powder or liquid?" Axel asked.

"I can't say what the others are for sure. He threw two at me. The one that hit me was powder. I inhaled it and passed out. There were only five and one was an empty vial or at least looked empty. It could be a gas, I guess. The others could have been liquid or powder cut so fine that I couldn't tell the difference from the distance that I was away." Naminé had her eyes closed, eyebrows arced in thought.

"Useful." He chimed.

"I did my best." She responded, slightly agitated at his aloofness. She turned her head and blew out a frustrated breath, glancing at him. He was so frustrating!

_Still, he is far from an eyesore. _As if on cue, he sent a cursory glance her way stopping her mid-thought. She flinched under his brilliant green eyes focusing on her. The green eyes were as much on fire as the rest of him.

Realizing that he was only glancing at her to continue the conversation, Naminé sighed. At the moment, his eyes were focused once again on the ceiling.

"You said he used two vials."

She wasn't sure if it was a question, but she was a little angry that he could be so lax here with her serious situation hanging over her head.

"I did."

"Well," he started, annoyed that she hadn't elaborated. "What happened to the other?" He asked, rubbing his eyes as if he were tired.

"I don't know. He threw it at me and missed as I was trying to hide."

He laughed, drawing in a deep breath to escalate it. "You dodged Marluxia? Hah! He must be slipping if you managed to get away." Naminé grit her teeth. The way he said it was harsh, even for Axel. He had determined so simply that she wasn't wily nor crafty or even fast enough to get away. Which most of the time would be true, but still it was undermining and hurtful.

Naminé pushed from her hands and knees and stood up drawing Axel's attention her way. His head tilted and he raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Watch this getaway." She hissed, turning and fading from the room.

The hair on Axel's arms stood up.

* * *

A heavy weight filled the room as if the air had gotten heavier. Axel was reclined in the exact same spot as before. The only difference was that a day had passed, but he was still situated on the couch.

Naminé stormed in, her white dress swinging around her knees as she stalked inside. She gave him a dark look, furrowed eyebrows and a frown turning her lips.

"Get out."

Axel didn't budge, didn't even acknowledge that she was there.

"Get out." She ordered, her voice barely raising a notch. Anger was a new arena to Naminé, but she was a quick learner. She rarely yelled, but was determined that she would do whatever necessary for him to leave her mind and give her some space.

Nothing moved him.

She walked over to him and grabbed his arm, intending to roll him off the couch by any means. His hand closed around her wrist quickly, causing Naminé to quiet a squeak. She yanked her arm hard, hoping that the momentum would pull him off the couch and her out of his grip. To no avail. Naminé sighed. She was learning one lesson at a time that she was nowhere near as strong as any member of the organization.

Her will and wits would have to be her way out. Brute force would never be in her corner.

"Let me go," she muttered darkly. Naminé felt his grip tighten as she was being drawn closer to him, inches away. Close enough that Naminé could feel the heat rising off his skin. Naminé jerked backwards, uncomfortable because she was hanging over him.

"Why?" He hadn't looked at her yet. One flame rolled over his fingers, licking his skin. He still wasn't paying her the merest of attentions. Naminé frowned at his sudden word. She grit her teeth and tested his grip by pulling again.

"Why what? I just want you to leave. Leave my mind in peace, leave me alone," she ground out. Rocking onto her heels, she let her weight pull against Axel, hoping that he would tire soon. "What have you contributed to my escape? Every time we meet here, we discuss and discuss and discuss my captivity, but we never plan an escape. How about telling Xemnas what they are doing—"

"Stop." With one word Naminé was silenced. She wanted to argue, but waited with her mouth slightly agape. Axel turned to her, his green eyes matching his ghost-like smile. "I talk a lot, but jeez, Naminé, you are a chatterbox." Naminé inhaled deeply and scuffed her foot against the floor. Naminé thought she heard him say something like 'worse than me, honestly,' but she wasn't sure.

She let out a deep breath. "And y_ou_ never say _anything_. I am constantly the only source of conversation that we have. You, who is normally so talkative," she said quietly. She drew in another breath. "And you belittle me at every turn. I try to provide something useful and you tell me it's worthless. I feel like all I ever _do _is talk, like we're on a holiday and—" She stopped herself and Axel released her arm. Gratefully, Naminé stood up straight and distanced herself from Axel.

Space was what she needed, rubbing the wrist that he had grasped nervously. A small tremor ran up her arm in remembrance of his touch. What was happening to her?

"I'm doing it again," she sighed. Axel sat up on the couch, looking graceful and effortless in a trivial gesture. Naminé backed up minutely.

"Why are you upset?" He asked passively, sitting on the couch with his feet tucked comfortably across one another. He wasn't smiling. Who was this Axel?

"I was trying to be justifiably mad about last night, but then I felt it. I was lying on the scratchy carpet in here." She gestured to the carpet that was in the center of the room. This was an exact replica of her imprisonment after all. "I was sleeping nicely when suddenly I feel you in my head again. Like an itch I can't scratch. I ignored you for three hours, you know that, right?" Axel watched her intently. Even now, after several occasions spent only talking to him, he was still a mystery. Naminé couldn't tell what was on his mind at any given moment.

A nervous feeling crept over her, a tangible feeling working its way along her skin.

Naminé took a few paces backwards and Axel followed her with his eyes, his mouth in a tight line. Naminé was inwardly embarrassed, but hopeful that he didn't understand the real reason that she was keeping her distance.

"So you can tell when I'm here?" He asked. She nodded. "Then don't keep me waiting again." She opened her mouth to say something, but with the look of ill will on his face, she stopped.

The look on his face made Naminé's breath shudder out. She kept forgetting that Axel was dangerous and one day Naminé feared that she would experience that danger if she wasn't cautious. She imagined those chakram blazing like infernos being thrown towards her, no recognition of regret in his eyes as he sliced her, melted her, killed her.

Axel arched forward placing two hands on his knees and closed his eyes. Was he imagining the same thing? Her death at his hands?

He laughed then, a chuckle rising from his throat and bouncing off the walls. He had noticed the discomfort she was in and thought lightly of it. Maybe the clenched fists or the tightening of her eyes and mouth had given it away.

Through her rising fear, Naminé steeled herself, her muscles going rigid with fear and anxiety. Grasping feebly at her dress, Naminé marched forward and dropped down onto her rear in front of Axel. She wouldn't let him control her, no matter how indirectly he was doing it.

He put his feet on the floor on either side of her and peered down at her. A small smile turned the corners of his lips before disappearing. Naminé cocked her head to the side and looked at him from the corners of her eyes, still unsure that she was doing the right thing trusting the strange man.

"Why were you mad?" He asked calmly.

Naminé studied the floor for a moment before looking up to match his bland stare.

"You offended me by saying that Marluxia 'must be losing his touch.'" Axel's mouth peeled into a smile, but dissolved into a serious look.

"You think that if faced against Marluxia that you would pose an even threat?" He asked simply.

"A one on one physical fight, no," she admitted. Her hands rose into the air in an exasperated gesture. Her voice rose slightly, "but you belittled me by saying that I was easy prey."

"You _are_ easy prey." Naminé felt the anger rising from the pit of her stomach.

"Don't say that. I am not anyone's prey. I may not be physically impressive, but if it came down to my life, I could survive."

"Oh, yes. Your mind-fucking powers." Naminé's eyes widened as Axel drawled that out so casually. It was so crude.

"Don't say it like it's dirty," she said firmly. She bit her lip, trying to stop the anger that he was purposely stoking.

"You don't consider messing with someone's thoughts, their memories, all that they have left to them… dirty?" He said harshly, a tinge of anger creeping into his voice. "To a nobody, you are taking away what's sacred. It's all we have left. That doesn't seem immoral to you?"

"If my life were in jeopardy, you want me to bring moral qualms into consideration?" She asked, malice filling her voice.

"No, but at least realize that your power isn't something to brag, boast, or be proud of."

"When do I ever brag?" Naminé exclaimed, rolling her eyes. She focused on him, narrowing her eyes tightly. "And I am not proud of them, but these powers have saved my life numerous times."

"They are also what brought you to the attention of the Organization." He pointed out and Naminé knew he was right. "Sounds like more of a curse to me." He had a hand under his chin, his arm resting on his knee. Crouched over her, Naminé felt even worse than before.

"Stop pretending that you are someone to be revered and protected." Naminé felt her tightly built wall start to crumble. He was chipping away at her defenses slowly but surely. The smallest wounds always bled the slowest, drawing out the pain.

"I am not revered, nor protected, obviously," she said, her arms swinging in a wide circle gesturing to her prison.

"Yet you want my help, to protect you, to save you." He added.

"No. Yes." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I never asked for your protection, I just want your help because—" He cut her off again.

"Because why?" He had stoked the fire enough.

"Because I am not capable of saving myself!" She yelled, defeated.

"See?" She huffed, blowing out her breath harshly. She refused to look at him. "That is what makes you prey."

"I am not pre—" She was arguing, but not really believing herself anymore.

"I can catch you anytime you want. Do you want me to prove it to you?" He goaded, his quick movements causing her to rise to her feet and back away.

"Scared, witch?" The term wolfish grin took on its full meaning.

Naminé hesitated. "My name is Naminé." Her resolve was failing. Yes, she was scared.

"I'll call you anything you want, you couldn't stop me." Axel rose from his chair taking a step towards her. "What makes you deserve a name?"

Naminé backed away and he disappeared from view. Knowing this was a game, Naminé stood absolutely still although her instincts were telling her to run.

Preservation, all though the name of the game, meant that Naminé would have to save herself and she wouldn't fall into his trap. He could have her, simply.

"No fight, no struggle, merely resignation." Axel sighed. An arm slung around her shoulders and neck pressed her into him. If she didn't fight, it would take the thrill of the chase out of it. Then he would stop and then he wouldn't have the satisfaction of being right. _Right?_

"You win, game over," Naminé said nonchalantly, trying to relax, save for the fact that every muscle in her body was aching to tense. Spiky hair tickled her neck and ear as Axel shifted closer to her. Naminé heard him exhale and took the distance between her ear and his mouth for granted. The muscles in her back tightened.

She tilted her head to the left, trying to give herself some space. The way the line of his chin was flush with her neck made her uncomfortable in the oddest of ways.

"What do I get for winning?" He responded smoothly. The smile in his voice was hard to miss.

"Wha…what do you mean?" She laughed half-heartedly, though fear was steadily creeping into her voice.

His grip tightened around her shoulders.

"The winner always gets a prize, Naminé. What…is...my…prize?" He painfully drew out every syllable of his last statement.

"You didn't win." She contradicted herself, but maybe she could work her way out of this. Admittedly, she was beginning to not want to save herself from him. "It's not a contest when there is only one player," she said quietly. "And I won't play your silly games." She put both hands on his arm and pushed it away from her, suppressing the regret she was feeling at letting him go.

He smiled. "You won't play victim so easily then?" Naminé dropped his hand and backed away from him with a small smile creeping onto her face. When had this turned from a serious fight to light-hearted teasing and careful banter?

"No. I won't be _your_ victim, willing or not." Naminé walked towards the couch, planning on taking his spot. Knowing he was watching her, Naminé half-turned, but continued her walking.

"Back to the issues at hand, other than your rampant…" She hesitated, trying to word his games in the correct manner without incriminating herself for taking part in them. "Machinations."

Turning again, she sighed as she spotted him at one end of the couch. She knew he was faster than her, but give a girl a fighting chance.

Naminé set herself at the other end of the couch. She reminded herself that she was indeed a sheep among wolves. Several wolves.

"Now what?" She asked quietly. He looked upwards thoughtfully, reclining against the arm of the couch.

She turned her head to the side, meeting his eyes. His green eyes looked mischievous, as if they were saying, 'Aha, I've got something.'

"Now, we discuss the terms of your release," he said plainly.

"Terms?" She questioned, tucking her chin into her shoulder grimly. She should have known that he would use this situation to his advantage.

"Terms. You understand that I am risking myself by helping you out. If I am caught," he said severely, "then the organization will want to kill me. I am, in effect, staking my life on not getting caught, because I assume that you not only want to get out of Marluxia's hands, but out of the organization as well." Naminé stiffened and faced forward, not wanting to look at Axel. He didn't give her a chance to respond; he knew the truth of her wanting to leave.

"I'm right, aren't I?" He goaded. She watched out of her peripheral vision as his smile turned into a brilliant grin, ruining the illusion of his calm façade.

She turned her entire body to face him, crossing her legs and nodding at him. "Assuming you're right," she started, tilting her chin upwards, "what do you want in return for freeing me?"

His smile faded into seriousness and he crossed his arms. He closed his eyes and she watched him focus, watched as he searched for something that was within her power to give him. What had she said earlier? Something about saving the nobodies and saving—

She knew instantly what would be the bargaining chip that Axel would want. She smiled. That she could and would happily do in exchange for her freedom. Before he could reply, Naminé spoke up.

"Roxas," she said simply. His eyes opened slowly, half-lidded in an effort to hide something. She couldn't pick it up. Naminé realized that even if he pretended to be loud-mouthed and uncaring, it was all a lie compared to his tightlipped and calm interior.

"I'll take Roxas with me when I escape. You're…" She stopped short of saying 'friends' because someone with Axel's outlying attitude wouldn't have friends. "You don't want the organization to use him, so when I leave he'll come with me, willing or not," she added.

Axel nodded, shifting in his seat to face the bookshelf and podiums across the room.

"Deal?" She asked, finding it hard to once again uphold a conversation in which only she participated. He gave her a blasé look. She put up her hands and shrugged her shoulders. She would take that as a yes.

Finding nothing better to do, Naminé got up to pace the room as per usual, finding her unimpeded walk of the room far better than her wrist-bound type. Then she felt it. Like a gentle wave of warning lapping around her ankles, she felt the pull start to rise quickly, hitting her mid-waist.

Axel looked upwards as she stumbled.

He sent her a questioning look when his eyes imperceptibly widened.

"What was that?" She asked quickly, then meeting Axel's eyes, she started.

"You're fading." His mouth hung open slightly.

She looked down at her hands and realized that they were translucent. She glanced up at him again with a shocked look running over her.

"I'm waking up, but..." She felt extremely uncomfortable, almost nauseated as it happened. A small noise rose up from her mouth as she gasped again, feeling the wave wash over her.

Axel stood, approaching her cautiously and then the room vanished along with Axel.

* * *

"Wakey, wakey, little witch," a voice purred in her ear. Naminé tried to rollover, but found a lump of mass blocking her.

"I think you overdid it," he said in a low voice. The figure was tall enough to block the light of the room out and then he crouched beside her.

"Here," he said, handing it to the other person, a woman, who was on her right. Through he blurred vision, she saw the man, Marluxia maybe, hand something to her. Her had to be Larxene. After all, there was no other woman was in the organization.

Larxene's pale face wrinkled slightly when she grimaced at whatever Marluxia handed her. She sniffed and then coughed terribly, but Marluxia gave her no sympathy.

Then Larxene's hand started to move towards Naminé's face and for a moment Naminé though it might have been to suffocate her. She panicked, struggling to move, but her body was stiff, unresponsive. Instead, the hands moved underneath her nose and— ugh.

Naminé heaved at the spicy and strong odor that had filled her nostrils. Her brain went into overtime screaming 'Wake up! Wake up now!'

She sat up violently, her head clashing with Larxene's harshly. Larxene let out a loud grunt and fell backwards clutching her forehead. Marluxia put a hand behind Naminé's back, steadying her.

"God damnit, witch, did you have to sit up and split my skull?" Larxene yelled vehemently through clenched teeth.

Naminé swayed slightly at being jarred into reality so harshly. Swallowing hard, she coughed out, "Your fault, not mine." Larxene's eyes widened and Naminé saw her draw out a knife, but not before she saw Marluxia's fingers curl around Larxene's.

"You've done enough damage," he warned. "And she's right, next time, keep a safe distance from the unconscious you're about to bring back from the dead. Her reaction is milder than others." Naminé lowered an eyebrow at the last statement. What was he talking about?

"Dead?" Naminé croaked, her voice rough.

Marluxia turned to her and she was sorry that she had ever said anything. His focus on her was never a welcome idea.

"Not dead, but you have been unconscious for a considerable time." He glanced at Larxene who had stormed to the other side of the room. Naminé remembered the unkind foot aimed at her face. Larxene's foot. Unconsciously, she raised a hand trying to find a lump on her forehead, evidence of the attack.

It was then she realized that she was untied. Neither her neck restraint nor her wrist ropes were in place. But she didn't have time to celebrate as a throbbing, dull pain pulsed in her skull. Without thought, she ran her hands over the back of her head, searching until she found the source: a dry and crusty spot. Her hair was stuck to her head where the blood had congealed on her skin. Brushing a finger against it, she flaked some of the blood off, trying to see if the gash was a large one.

"Two minor cuts is all," Marluxia said, once again glancing at Larxene who was leaning against the bookcase looking uneasy and perturbed. Naminé found the room slightly more hospitable than before and couldn't figure out why.

"What is different about the room?" She asked, finding the courage to say something more than one syllable words. All of the furniture was still there, the podiums, the couch, the chair; even the bookcase with the single row of books was unmoved. Yet something was amiss.

"We lowered the lighting of the room. It was becoming unpleasant," Marluxia offered. Naminé had no idea why he was suddenly becoming cordial. He had no motives that she could understand for him to be nice. Naminé ran her eyes over Marluxia then, who wasn't wearing the normal coat of organization. Instead, he had traded it for a black turtleneck and black slacks. What did this organization have with black? Why was color so taboo?

Without the coat, he looked like maybe at one point before Organization XIII he might have had a normal life. It made Naminé pause and the prejudices she had formed in her mind were starting to slip. All of these people had led normal lives, or as normal as they could have before they had joined the organization. Maybe the jarring experience of being ripped from your Other had turned them into such pessimistic fools. She didn't know.

She had no memories of her Other.

But she did have memories of Him. That was what bothered her so much. He constantly flitted to her thoughts and made her— Naminé cringed. She had no heart to beat faster. She could only assume that it was her Other that retained such strong feelings for Him. Hers were only fake remnants of a nobody.

Marluxia grabbed Naminé's upper arm and pulled her upwards trying to be as gentle as possible, but failing because there was no proper nor gentle way to pull Naminé up by her appendage.

She stood firmly, thankful that her feet weren't wobbly or about to give way. Satisfied, she waited for direction and returned her eyes to the other threat in the room.

Larxene. Or what was it they called her? The Savage Nymph.

Naminé wasn't sure how they had come up with the name, but she could guess. _Ew_.

Marluxia pushed past Naminé to squeeze between the couch which she was lying behind and the rocking chair. Naminé trailed her vision after him, watching as he approached Larxene.

Larxene ruffled a hand through her hair, pulling at the ends hard. As he moved to stop in front of her, Naminé watched as Larxene narrowed her eyes at him.

"Watch over her," was all he said as he turned and gave Naminé a fleeting nod. What? Was that some sort of good luck nod? Don't get hurt? Don't die?

She would have been better off with don't breathe.

Larxene was in front of her just then, causing Naminé to topple over awkwardly. Tumbling onto her butt, she threw her hands over the bottom of her dress as it was riding up too far. It made her uncomfortable, even if Larxene was a girl.

Larxene leaned over her, a malicious grin spreading on her face. "Little witch, I have a question for you."

Three knives appeared between Larxene's knuckles, flashing maliciously. Naminé inched to her right, putting the couch between her Larxene.

"How many knives does it take to make a witch scream?"

Larxene's hand arced towards Naminé.

She screamed.

* * *

Wow. It was originally longer, but I cut it. I had planned on _not _making this end, cliffy-like, but it was just getting too long. I like the interaction that Larxene will add, but she is just too clear-cut 'evil' to be anything more than mundane, so hopefully she'll become just as convoluted as this plot. Right? Right.

I'm a little more excited about the next chap because Axel makes a bigger a presence. The camera finally turns back towards him. Woot. Though chapter 5 or the material that is supposed to be in chapter five is what I am looking forward to writing. I'll get there.

Thanks to my lovely sister for answering a few of my questions.

And the two new reviewers: Erin P and Larawell. Thanks.

Cal


	4. Scars

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts(any version), nor do I own the subsequent characters.

All right, I cranked this chapter out, and it's almost completely un-edited except for a once over to me. But I got a little over-excited when this chapter popped out of my head, so I posted it.

Guh. Enjoy and make sure to read the bottom.

* * *

Bent

Chapter 4: Scars

By Calkat

* * *

Axel scratched his thigh as he dropped his head against the pillow. This would be the second and final time that Naminé would keep him waiting. He would ensure that.

A noise to his left drew his attention. He quirked an eyebrow when he spotted Naminé on the floor once again, nestled into the scratchy carpet that she was apparently fond of.

"Honestly, Naminé, I know that the floor is comfortable, but this is getting ridiculous." She didn't laugh, didn't raise her head weakly in protest. She didn't even give him a dirty look that she normally tried to suppress but failed miserably. He swiveled his head in his hands and watched her. No movement.

"Stop playing possum. You're asleep again. Hello." When she didn't budge, Axel sat up and made his way towards Naminé careful to keep a safe distance. Even though small, Naminé was not weak. Her memory-messing abilities made her a force to be feared if not reckoned with.

As close as he was Axel spotted something out of place. He could see right through Naminé again.

He circled around her, dropping to a crouch by her waist. Axel brushed her hair aside and placed two fingers on her neck. She had a strong pulse, but she wasn't breathing right.

Tilting her head to the side, Axel jerked his hand away when he felt something wet coating his fingers. Studying it, he found blood sticking to the tips of his fingers and under his nails.

Naminé pried one eye open slowly, her eyes looking bloodshot and lazy.

"Marluxia?" Axel asked, calmly. Naminé seemed to nod off again as her body started to fade from the dream plane. Gripping her wrist tightly, he called her name again and she cracked an eye, a small smile even with her swollen lip.

"I found out who the second person was," she said, her voice sounded relatively normal compared to what she looked like outwardly. He didn't interrupt her, unsure of how long she would be here.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Larxene." She faded fully this time, disappearing from the room.

"Shit," Axel cursed. Following suit, he faded.

* * *

She knew that she was on her back. That was a given because she was staring up at the ceiling. A white ceiling. She understood that she was still in the castle, but that was as far as her brain was letting her get. Her thought process was incredibly slow.

Naminé blinked an eye. Only one eye because the other had something over it. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't really care. She felt eerily calm, even though in the back of her mind, she knew that something bad had happened to her, but she couldn't remember what.

Feeling an itch start up on her nose, Namine lifted her hand to scratch it. Leather bindings strapped across her entire body stopped her before her hand was an inch off the table. How had she missed the leather across her chest? Now that she noticed it, she felt how tightly it was wound around her body. How could she miss something like that?

The blue lighting faded and then brightened again as someone passed under the light. It made Naminé squint her eyes and try to block the light with her hands, but they were still restrained to the table… bed… thing.

"Sorry about the drugs, Naminé, but you looked like you were in bad shape, so I thought that a good morphine drip would be thoughtful," an emotionless voice said. It wasn't a cold, emotionless voice that refused to let emotions in. It was more of a voice that didn't know how to use emotions correctly. Naminé closed her eyes and tried to block out the brilliant light so that she could think.

Who would have— Even, no, Vexen was his name. Naminé repeated the last out loud and his blond head appeared over her. In the shadows on his face, Naminé noticed that he was frowning. _No, he's not frowning, that's his blank face. He doesn't even realize he's frowning, _her mind rationalized. Of course, her brain and her thoughts were on two different tracks right now, so—

"Why are you frowning? Did I ruin one of your experiments? The beaker that broke last week wasn't my fault, Xigbar really knocked it over to make it look like I did it." Vexen's frown slipped slightly, his version of a smile.

"No, no, you didn't break or ruin anything. You're just under my care for the next hour or so until Marluxia comes back." Marluxia, now why did that name cause Naminé to want to panic, not that the morphine would let her.

"Vexen, why am I tied down—" Naminé paused. "Will you scratch my nose? I have this terrible itch and," she gestured, or tried to gesture, to her restraints, "I'm tied down, so could you help out, please?" Vexen merely looked at her and made a note on his clipboard.

He turned away and Naminé mock-whined at him. "What are you doing?" She asked. He set his clipboard down and started turning knobs on a bag that was elevated on a pole.

"Lowering the dosage." She sat quiet, trying to figure out why the word dosage avoided her internal dictionary.

"Do-sage," she said. Vexen's frown slipped again. She was making him not-frown. A good sign because he never smiled.

"I put the restraints on because I didn't want you to reopen the wounds that I stitched up."

"Stitches?" Naminé asked, her voice was a little panicky. She was starting to return to herself. The morphine was wearing off.

"They're already out. The scars are still there; do you want them removed as well?" He asked, pulling out another clipboard. Walking towards her, he set the clipboard in front of her, so that she could see it. There were red lines across several parts of the body.

"What are the red marks?" Naminé asked. She could guess, but assurance was needed.

"They are where the scars are located."

Her mouth dropped open slightly. "Really?" She tried to put a hand on the clipboard to help count, but still couldn't move. "Vexen," she said, nodding to the restraints. He set the clipboard on her stomach and went about undoing the buckles that restrained her. When she felt it loosen, she tried to move, but still couldn't get her arms free. She shot an impatient look at Vexen.

He eyed her back, not caring that she was rushing him. "Patience. It will only take a sec—" and they came undone, "—ond. There. Done."

Naminé wiggled her arms a bit, for about three seconds, and then her hands darted out to grab the clipboard. Running her fingers along the paper, Naminé counted ten marks. A couple were in places that even she didn't want to look.

"Vexen," she said, "Could you—"

He was already ahead of her, marching towards the other side of the room and then through the door to give her some privacy.

She looked at the clipboard again. Two on her torso, they looked to be the largest. One on her back, three above her left knee that looked like tiger stripes, one on her neck, two on her arms and the last was on her right, inner thigh.

Naminé felt her neck start to warm as her pulse became faster.

What made her the most uncomfortable was the one on her thigh and the one on her upper torso. The one on her chest according to the chart was close to her breast, but it wasn't modesty that was scaring her. Vexen had seen her nude several times, and every time, the sight of her body hadn't prompted any reactions from him, several from her, but he had never acted like it was anything else but normal.

The problem that was making her heart beat so hard was the fact that the scar across her breast was terrifyingly close to her heart. And from the notes that Vexen had made, it had been deep. Naminé felt the memory start to rise up, her brain had prompted the memory to attempt to relive itself. But Naminé was too practiced with the mind and memory. With a thought, she quieted the memory and pressed it back down. She didn't want to experience that terror again. Later, she could analyze it, but now, she would just try to calm down.

Larxene had tried to kill her. Naminé hadn't done anything life-threatening to Larxene and yet the woman had tried to kill her, or at least, bring her close to death… for nothing.

Pushing the white blanket down, Naminé felt her anxiety rise. Or maybe that was her blood pressure.

She lifted a hand to her dress and saw how crudely it had been sewn back together. It was all that she had ever owned other than her art book and now it was in pieces. Kind of like her—

_Don't say it. Saying it makes it more real._

So she said it. _The first step is admitting;_ she laughed at herself, a kind of broken resignation.

"Kind of like my life's in pieces," she said, waiting for someone to respond, maybe uphold her internal conversation. _Then again, what kind of life do I have? I _**am**_only a piece of someone anyways, a piece of her._

Pausing at the hem of her dress, she took a deep breath. Did she have to see it? Couldn't she ask Vexen to take it away and then act as if it had never happened?

A pitiable escape. Naminé yanked the dress down before she could talk herself out of it and heard the dress rip slightly. In her effort to not contradict herself, she had gotten a little overzealous. Not that it mattered; a small rip added to the tattered dress wouldn't really affect it now.

Peering down at the scar, Naminé touched the pinkish-white skin, lightly tracing it.

"I guess it's not that bad," she said, feeling the slick skin. Her first scar. Correction: first _scars._ It was funny that she cared about such a milestone. But in her life, milestones didn't happen all the time because she didn't _have a life._

Putting the top of the dress back in place, Naminé then pulled the end of her dress up to see the marks above her knee. In a way, they were kind of… cool, but Naminé didn't give them much thought as she studied the next two that ran like snakes up her arms.

A knock jolted Naminé's head upwards, eyeing the door.

"Cover yourself up, you have visitors," Vexen called from a crack in the door. Grateful for the warning, Naminé pulled the blanket up to her chest and then set about making the gurney sit up, so that she could relax.

Since she had been on this bed numerous times before, Naminé knew where to find the switch and flicked it so that she could adjust the bed. When she finished, she heard muffled voices on the other side of the door and footsteps to announce the arrival of her visitors.

She knew Marluxia was coming, but what if it was Xemnas? What if he had paid an unexpected visit and came to see how she was doing? Was she healthy, sane, alive?

There were two sets of footsteps and her anxiety set in again. It had to be Marluxia and Larxene.

She cursed, unsure of what to do. Now would be the time to hide, but she had to hurry.

Throwing the blanket off again, Naminé prepared to launch herself off the table, but quickly gasped.

"Oh, damn it, Vexen!" She couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth, effects of the morphine, she convinced herself. Around her ankles lay another strap, locked into place like the others that Vexen had undone. It had taken him so long to loosen her straps because they were locked. Locked with a lock and key. No freaking way.

She couldn't face Marluxia and Larxene like this. Larxene had almost killed her before and that was when she was untied. Now she was anchored to a metal bed. It would be like a lamb to the slaughter. She wouldn't stand a chance against Larxene like this.

Leaning over, Naminé angrily tugged at the strap binding her ankles. Letting out a frustrated scream, Naminé dug her nails in hard and tried stretching the leather.

A loud bang stopped all of Naminé's efforts and she searched for a weapon. For god's sake, she was in a laboratory, there just had to be a scalpel somewhere! A syringe, something sharp!

Amid frantic glances, Naminé registered that two people had joined Vexen and were now ushering into the room. She stopped when she spotted them, the blond hair that terrified her, Larxene—

Wasn't there.

"Axel?" Naminé asked, eyes widening.

Marluxia looked from one to the other expecting Axel to react, but he just shrugged his shoulders. When Axel didn't say anything, Marluxia spoke.

"Yes, Naminé, Axel. Meet another member of our rebellion. The former eighth member of Organization XIII," Marluxia announced. "And Vexen…" Marluxia glanced at the long-haired scientist. "… a pending member."

"Vexen," Naminé said, feeling like the air was being squeezed out of her. Naminé glanced between the two newest members of the coup, her mouth agape with shock. Stopping on Axel, she started to say something.

"Axel, but you…" Axel's eyes narrowed at her, jolting Naminé back to her thoughts. Shaking her head, she tried to make it look like she still couldn't believe that this many people would be…

"Traitors!" She hissed, her nails digging into the table. Axel relaxed, or at least, looked like he had relaxed because the tension between his eyes faded.

Axel gave a small smirk, playing his role perfectly. "Got to play for the winning side," he said, then added, "Witch." Naminé's lips twisted in disgust.

Marluxia walked towards her, his eyes never losing the passive nature that she had become so accustomed to. Not even bothering to play the defiant prisoner, Naminé resigned her self to passivity. When Marluxia arrived at her side, she rolled her eyes towards him, regarding him, but not intently. She knew that he wasn't the only predator in the room and had to act like she feared the others. Well, Vexen was a terrible predator in the sense of aggression and she still figured that Axel was on her… side, so in theory, she had nothing to fear, but she would pretend.

Gripping her face, Marluxia jarred her head to the right, baring her scar for him to see.

"Blood loss?" Marluxia asked as he examined her neck.

"Massive. Handled with transfusions."

"Wounds?"

"Extensive, all external. Two deep, the rest superficial. Easily dealt with. Stitches and laser graphing. Closed up successfully. Quickly as well," Vexen finished.

"Marluxia," Axel said. Naminé looked from Marluxia to focus on Axel who didn't glance at her. Nothing reassuring that she would have liked, but knew not to expect it.

From the corner of her eyes, Naminé saw Marluxia give her a once over and then look to Axel.

"Axel," he countered and then said, "Take care of Larxene. If there is a problem, fix it." A smile lit up Axel's face, baring his teeth and to some extent, scaring Naminé.

Naminé felt puzzled, but didn't ponder it for too long when she heard Marluxia address her for the second time.

"Are you going to have the scars removed or not?" He asked.

Naminé struggled to not look curious and instead keep her face immobile. Then she thought that it was better to just be honest than to take the time to formulate a worthy and diplomatic response.

"I thought they would add character to me."

A snort came from across the room and Naminé turned her attention to the perpetrator. Axel, of course.

"What?" She asked defensively. She was always on the defensive with him.

"You're already a character, witch." Naminé rolled her eyes. Thinking about it, it didn't really matter whether or not she had the scars. They served no purpose to either benefit her or to be harmful to her cause.

Turning to Marluxia, she said. "I guess, I don't really care. Honest truth." Marluxia regarded her in a manner that made her think that maybe Marluxia approved of her choice of words, but she would never be sure. It didn't matter anyways.

"Axel," Marluxia prompted. "Larxene," he said as a command. Taking it as a dismissal, Axel nodded and made to leave the room before he turned.

"Leave a couple scars on her, Marluxia, as a reminder, but the rest need to come off. If DiZ sees her in this shape, he'll wonder what's been going on. Curious minds breed trouble," Axel said, then pushed his way out the door and was gone.

Marluxia turned towards her again and then to Vexen. "Leave two scars, but make sure they are out of sight." Vexen nodded and went to gather his tools.

Marluxia dropped his hand from her face and then headed for the door before turning to her. Exactly as Axel had done.

"Remember what those scars mean, Naminé," Marluxia drawled darkly. "We're a dangerous organization made up of deadly people. You're useful, but slip up in any way and I'll leave Larxene to her devices next time. I won't have Vexen intercede to revive you as before."

He turned and disappeared through the door.

They were gone.

Finally.

Naminé choked a sob; the reality of everything had weighed on her before, but now it was crushing her.

The clatter of metal made Naminé straighten up and swallow hard. She would have plenty of time to pity herself later, but now…

Vexen ambled over to her and sat down on a stool in front of her. "Which do you want to do first?" Vexen said beneath a mask. A tool that had a bright light at the end of it edged over her arm, along with a metal rod. It resembled a flint, but Naminé couldn't be sure.

Knowing that it would probably hurt, Naminé pointed to a scar.

"Neck."

"Lean back," he said, slipping a metal band over his eyes

Then, "Bite on this."

* * *

Axel had spent an hour trying to find her, but the woman was proving more of a challenge to find than he had expected. He wasn't underestimating her, just being overly cautious in all the rooms he had examined.

She hadn't been in her room, the dining hall, the lounge, the gym, the…., suffice to say, he had looked everywhere and his anger had finished simmering.

It had started to boil and was close to bubbling over the edge.

He had looked everywhere. Everywhere but the door he was standing in front of. It was his last spot to check, maybe she had left the building, but… he would have felt her open a portal.

Without ceremony, Axel shoved the doors inwards and paced into the library. Like she had been expecting him, Larxene was perched on top of a shelf in a reclined position, her hand cocked at an angle to support her head. She _had _known he was coming.

"Marluxia said that you had joined us." She said, her voice sounding like deep falsetto. She rolled onto a hip and Axel saw a glint of knives under her sleeves. Her mouth hung open slightly, and her eyes held nothing as her head lolled to the side. "I take it that you have been sent to deal with me." She raised an eyebrow. "A test of your worth?" Her voice had a high lilt to it.

She rolled off the shelf, her robes trailing her as she fell to the ground. Straightening herself, she closed her eyes with some inner thought and then snapped them open, her former nonchalance gone.

"You and I both know our strengths, our weaknesses, why bother with this power struggle? I concede, I'll even apologize to Marluxia in person."

"That's not my job. Marluxia said 'Take care of it.' I don't care whether or not you're sorry, whether we fight or not." He smirked then, his eyes alight with malice. "Because I know I'll win. No contest." He circled her then, a shark after prey, sizing her up. "My job," he measured each word, "is to make sure you don't do it again."

"Soft spot for the witch?" Then with a less confident feeling, she said, "Marluxia said to watch her, he said nothing about her being uninjured. He had to assume what I would do to pass the time." Larxene started to move the opposite way of Axel as he neared her.

They were at an impasse until a knife slid between her knuckles.

"I don't play for fun, Larxene. It's all serious when I summon my chakram," Axel warned her.

She gave a bark of laughter. "Axel, serious?" She mocked. "Give a girl a fighting chance. What could one little knife do to you anyways? Gut you?" She chuckled again, eyes skyward only to focus on him again. "Castrate you?" She drew the knife towards the center of her body and slid the zipper of her cloak downward with it. Axel knew that she was making sure that she had full mobility if it got serious. He wouldn't give her the chance. He feinted at her and she jumped back, landing five feet from the edge of the room.

Larxene watched him, made sure he—

The force of the blow threw her backwards, slamming her against the bookcase. She let out a grunt of protest and then shoved the knife upwards, only to be disarmed and trapped.

Her cold exterior melted. She was yelling, screaming, trying to get free to scratch him, bite him, stab him.

"Let me go, NOW!" She shrieked. He trapped her hand between their bodies as he pressed her into the bookcase. She screamed again this time, but not from anger, from pain.

"I know what you're into. I know exactly what you like, but trust me, I'm one fire you'll want to avoid." She choked out a laugh and then looked to her left to see his hand gripping hers, fire licking over her skin, blistering it.

She yelled again as the flame turned blue briefly. A lazy gleam had glazed her eyes.

"It gets worse than this. Next time, I won't just burn your skin." He moved so fast that Larxene nearly missed it, but she jerked her head to the right in time to miss being skewered by her knife. He imbedded it next to her neck, the skin already starting to redden at the heat emitting from the knife.

Releasing her, he backed away a few steps. He watched as she emitted a shuddering breath and then she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't touch her again, Larxene." Axel said, his voice lined with threat. "Are you willing to rish us all for the sake of your… fetish?" Axel turned and pushed his way out of the room. He had gotten about five feet when he heard a screech and the sound of breaking objects. Larxene was taking out her fury on the library. Vexen wasn't going to be happy, but that wasn't Axel's problem. He had more scheming and plots to unwind and plan. The state of one room wasn't such a concern as freeing one witch from the imprisonment of both a rebel group and then the organization. Then he would have to worry about not getting caught up with the rebel group.

Axel resisted the urge to dent the wall next to him. It just frustrated him to no end that there were so many ways to get caught. So many ways to get killed just to free the witch. Then again, he was bargaining for Roxas. Roxas was the one member of the organization that he owed the most to. Every other member was interested in working their way up in the organization, gaining the most power and using anyone and everyone they could to do it. Axel included.

But Roxas had no Machiavellian plots, no dastardly schemes. He wanted one thing: A place to stay while he sorted his nonexistent life out. Now that Axel thought about it, that was what Naminé had wanted, only she hadn't gotten a choice. Either way, Organization XIII had offered a place to stay for both of them.

Roxas was a warrior and useful to claim assets for Organization XIII.

Naminé was an asset to be acquired. The power over memories was a very potent ability. She could erase memories from powerful figures. Make civilizations forget who their leaders were, who they worshipped.

Not that she could do that now. But with time…

Vexen had said that Naminé's powers were waning now that she was never allowed to use them. The few times she had used them, Vexen had recorded an increase in her power, meaning that with more use and more time… Naminé could become that powerful.

She could even make Organization XIII forget who their eighth member was. Axel laughed at himself. It was such a ridiculous idea and Axel understood that it would never happen. One, it would take far too long to get Naminé's powers that strong and two, Roxas didn't have that time. The confrontation with Sora was near and if Roxas got close, then he would be absorbed and disappear.

Axel owed it to him to make sure that, that didn't happen.

Angling down the hall to his right, Axel headed towards his room. He'd need more time to think this over and right now his only solitude was his room, but, even then, if he fell asleep, he wouldn't be alone. She would be there.

Then again, she would probably be with Vexen undergoing some ludicrous procedure.

Maybe he would be lucky enough to get some solitude.

Doubtful.

* * *

"You're here again?"

Naminé rolled over on the couch to see Axel settled against the table, his hands gripping the edges.

"Of course," Naminé said, sounding groggy even to her own ears. "Where else would I be?"

Axel waited as she finished her sentences, excruciatingly slow. _She must still be drugged._

"How did the procedure go?" Naminé grinned slightly, a very un-Naminé trait. Axel liked it on her. A sort of cynicism had finally begun working its way into her.

"Good." She lifted her hair to show a bandage at her neck. "Vexen got rid of every one." She paused. "Everyone except for two, that is. At your suggestion," Naminé said. Axel could tell that she was a little angry, but too worn out to scold him. Or maybe she had wizened up to his uncaring nature.

Axel pushed off of the table and sauntered over to her. Naminé had to crane her neck to look at him properly when he got close enough.

"It's a good memory to have. To remind you how dangerous and untrustworthy we are." He added like it was an afterthought. Naminé almost snorted, but stopped herself. Axel being in her mind so often was finally starting to rub off on her.

"A memory." She said, almost a question.

"In your position, I would think any memory would be good considering that you don't have many memories."

"Any memory for me is a good memory?" She said sarcastically. Axel raised an eyebrow.

_Naminé must be tired. She was never this vocal or antagonizing. _An idea appeared in Axel's mind making him smile wickedly.

"Where are the two remaining scars?" He asked, feigning innocence. Naminé bristled, but didn't sit up sharply, or get embarrassed. Hers was a sullen reaction. She mumbled something.

"Sorry, I missed that. Come again." He offered, a teasing edged into his voice. Naminé lifted her head from the couch.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said, flipping onto her other side, away from him.

"A guessing game then?" He asked, leaning over her.

"No, I told you. I won't play your game, let alone any game _with you_." Axel smiled, getting a reaction from her was just too easy.

Axel leaned over her further, far enough so that he could see her face tucked into the edge of the couch. Her face was twisted into a scowl.

"What if I want to play and I don't give you a choice?" His voice changed from joking to seriousness mid-sentence. Axel watched as Naminé stopped completely, as if she was frozen and couldn't move. Then slowly she rolled onto her back, her face inches below his.

"What kind of game?" She asked quietly.

"You'll have to play to find out."

"I always look before I leap." He was closer then. Or maybe she had moved upwards. Naminé couldn't remember.

"Did your mother teach you that?" He said, knowing all too well that she had no mother.

He waited for her reaction.

Naminé paused. "I know mothers teach their children not to play with fire."

Axel smiled. "And why do you think that is?"

"Because a fire burns you," she said in all seriousness. Axel remembered that he had said something similar to Larxene earlier, but looking down at this girl, the situation felt different.

Naminé blinked at how close he had made himself. He was only a hard thought away and it made her stomach tighten. Naminé could feel the heat rolling off of him and brush against her skin. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

"I won't just burn you, Naminé, I'll consume you."

* * *

Arrgggh, I keep wanting to write from Naminé's perspective and in the end, I slipped up and gave a scene to her. All right, if you have an opinion, tell me, which do you prefer, perspective(-wise), from Axel's POV or from Naminé's POV? To be honest, writing from Naminé's perspective is so much easier whereas Axel is a challenge because he really is so damn complicated. Blah Blah.

Oh yeah, sorry for the end of this chapter. I just couldn't figure out how to end it. Personally, I don't like how it ended. So I think I'll revise it. I think it's just too soon for Axel to be… um messing with her (her head)...

I told you. He's too complicated. Give me your opinions! Please, please, please.

**Either review, send me an email at silvercalkat(at)yahoo(dot)com, or I have a livejournal post set up now for you to respond to me. Join me a livejournal. I would love it for any reason**.

The link is calkat4(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)3362(dot)html.

If that gives you a problem, then check out my profile. The link for my LJ is there and from there it isn't too hard to find the area to post.

Cal

* * *

P.S. Welcome Skitty 2004 and White Peony to the reviewers. Thanks and I hope to reply to you ASAP.

P.P.S I can't get over how lame and cheesy I am.


	5. Turning the Tables

Okay, so I figure that to try and fix the suckage that is Chapter 4, I happily admit this, is too big of an overhaul to try and alter where this story is going. What happened, while painfully boring and a bit difficult to get through, was exactly what was supposed to happen. If I have a burst of inspiration maybe I'll rip it to shreds and re-write it. Completely anew. If I do, huzzah, if I don't please accept my apology for that painful chapter.

Now on to Chapter 5. a.k.a. my attempt at plot development and not character development. Hooo rrray.

By the way, this is completely unbeta-ed. Editing was done quickly by myself. I have to sleep!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, nor the ensuing characters.

* * *

Bent

Chapter 5: Turning the Tables

* * *

Naminé stared at the wall distractedly, her thoughts buzzing painfully in her ear. Anything that resembled coherence was lost under the constant focus on what had just happened. Mainly, Axel and his depreciative ways. His endless ploys, his tireless teasings were enough to drive Naminé a little to the left of the line of sanity.

Naminé was used to people using her, manipulating her, but normally they resorted to direct methods such as blackmail. Normally of the physical variety. They used fear as the reasoning and safety as a reward. It was an easy process to learn, hard to grow accustomed to, but essential to Naminé because she didn't like pain. Pain was their way of understanding, the only rationalization that the Organization would use with her.

And now, Axel was using unfair tactics, resorting to messing with her naiveté. Honestly, that was the only way to describe it. With her lifespan growing from what it had been, dismally short, to now, slightly longer, she was unused to the ways of subtleties, such as flirting. She was used to directness and honestly, she wasn't used to anything that was currently going on.

Deception she could handle, but indirectness was beyond comprehension.

Only what Axel was doing was unintentional, at least in her mind. How could any captive rationalize that one of their captors actually like the prisoner? Hint one: they are locking you up. Hint two: He's not letting you out. Problem solved.

She was merely a tool. In her mind, tools were not attractive in her mind and that defined her sole purpose: a handy tool. She realized that eventually every tool wears out. When would her time expire?

Tools were not something to be treasured. A treasure was something at one point that held importance to someone, and in a sense, Naminé was a treasure being secured by the Organization, but of the short-lived span.

Now, what would she do? Naminé sat up, her back stiff from laying down for so long. She had been running the conversation over and over through her mind. His face so close to hers. Naminé shook her head, trying to dismiss the image.

"_I won't just burn you, I'll consume you."_ Naminé closed her eyes. She was trying to avoid his more… distracting lines and attempting to focus on the important ones.

"_Roxas is back."_ That one was the problem. One gigantic problem and it was something that she could solve on her own, but she would have no proper motive to explain why she did what she did. She needed to compare notes… How could she fix Roxas?

The obvious choice was Axel… but she was tired of bothering him. Okay, she was agitated with him. Last time she had visited their sanctum, she had nearly been vaulted out at Axel's insistence. Something about letting him sleep for more than two uninterrupted hours.

It made her angry and made her want to be the one who had dismissed him, but Naminé rarely relished the chance to fight, so why start there?

And then there was the fact that Axel would be furious at her because of what she had done. Her honesty in telling him about what she did could jeopardize her plan for freedom. It was better to leave him out of it, solve the problem and act like nothing had happened.

Her target chosen, she stalked across the room, skirting the throw rug and walking around the couch to stop by the bookcase. She raised her hand, made a fist and rapped it against the wall a few times and then waited.

She waited a few moments and as usual nothing happened, and then…

The bright light flashed across the room, bleaching out nearly all of the ivory objects. Naminé shielded her eyes and risked a glance upward, squinting.

"Yeah?" The voice came, as usual. It was said with a little cynicism, but with more interest than apathy.

Larxene. She couldn't see her, but the small voice was telltale enough.

"I'd like to see Vexen. Will you please deliver the message so that Marluxia can arrange it? The sooner, the better," she added.

Larxene was quiet for a few moments before letting out a harsh breath. "If it gets me off of the duty, then sure, witch. Is it an emergency? You bleeding to death?"

"Hardly." Naminé muttered, then, " Now, please, if you wouldn't—"

"Good, I'll be awhile. The lunch bell is tolling." Larxene didn't wait for the rebuttal that would never come, just shut the light out and disappeared. Like usual.

Naminé hated the monotony, but deciding that since sleep wasn't an option (disturbing Axel would just be a pain), she figured that researching the materials that she was provided with was better than nothing. Shifting to the left along the bookcase, she prodded the few books before deciding that none were worthy or interesting.

"Well, crap," she said, backpedaling until she hit the couch and toppled over it, feet dangling across the top.

She sighed again. She was used to the waiting game, but she still hated it.

* * *

Naminé shifted from foot to foot again, the silence bearing in on her discomfortingly. After a couple hours of waiting, Larxene had returned with the assent of Marluxia for her to meet Vexen. Naminé had been delighted, only to be left in the room for another hour before Larxene returned again, this time to escort her to one of the lounges. Then she had left. Naminé was alone, no guard, no watcher, no captor. Freedom was overrated, she was sure.

When she had been sitting in the room for nearly a half hour alone, she started talking to herself. Something, she found, that wasn't as bad or weird as she thought she would have.

"Honestly, haven't you heard of music?" She said to no one. No one was listening.

"Or maybe a color scheme?" She added, staring at the white walls, the white couches, the white… everything.

Still no response, not that it mattered. What was the use of a prisoner's opinion?

Rolling off her back, Naminé picked up one of the three books in the lounge, and grabbed a pencil from on top of the desk. She plopped herself into one of the chairs and flipped to a random page.

…_Electromagnetism, or electromagnetic theory, is the physics of the electromagnetic field: a field, encompassing all of space, which exerts a force on those particles… _

Blah, blah, blah. Naminé felt herself starting to drift off at the boring nature of electric—whatever it was. Twirling the pencil in between her knuckles, Naminé then tapped the book a couple times, unsuccessfully trying to pass the time.

Nothing was helping. All she had was a book and a pencil. Naminé smiled. All she had ever needed was a pen and pad and she would spend hours drawing, sketching, coloring. So she set ahead, the pencil scratching over the words. Who cared about electro—whatever anyways. Art was beautiful. Science… was never her thing.

The door to the room opened, jarring Naminé from her work, causing her to slam the book closed. Loudly.

"Hi, Vexen. Thanks for—"

"What were you doing?" Vexen walked over, his stride tapping out along the floor like the music that the Castle would never have. Naminé yawned and tossed the pencil aside. She had no reason to lie, Vexen wouldn't care about a stupid physics book anyways, or would he? It didn't matter.

"Sketching," Naminé answered. Vexen had his notepad out.

"Sketching? Like your other pictures?" He waited, not expectantly, but in a more bored fashion, as if he just wanted to know for conversation's sake. When in reality, he was writing down every detail.

"Just something that came to mind. Not like the others, no unexpected memories popped up. I would have told you." Naminé said, scratching her ear.

"Can I see it?"

"No."

A simple answer, but the small twitch in Vexen's cheek was a giveaway that he did mind.

Naminé sighed, giving way. "It was just of Roxas," she confessed.

The pen in Vexen's hand raced across the notepad. "What was he doing?"

"Uh.. smiling, I guess, I didn't get that far." More notes being scribbled down.

"What was Roxas wearing?"

"Clothes." The pen's noise stopped. Naminé's shoulders dropped in defeat. "A black shirt, black robe, unzipped halfway." The pen moved faster this time, much to Naminé's annoyance.

"Vexen—" He raised the pen to his lips signifying silence before he started the race again.

"What does it mean?" She asked, curious now that he was analyzing it so deeply.

"When I know—"

"You'll know. I get it." Naminé finished for him. Vexen looked at her for a moment then jotted down a few more words before depositing the notebook back in his cloak.

He perched himself on the arm of the couch, obviously expecting this conversation to remain short.

"It's about Roxas." Vexen immediately shifted to sit on the couch and started to reach for his cloak pocket. Naminé cut in quickly. "There's no need for that. I haven't been having weird dreams about Roxas or the other boy—"

"Sora."

"Yes, Sora. This is about what has already happened, nothing hypothetical that you need to research." Vexen's hand reluctantly withdrew from his cloak to settle into his lap. He was sitting stiffly upright, looking uncomfortable, but it was the best that Naminé could hope for. She didn't know how to start this conversation, so she decided to be blunt.

"I want to give Roxas his memory back."

Vexen only paused for a moment before saying, "Want to, or Marluxia is allowing you to?"

"Want to. Marluxia wanted Roxas' memory distorted as a sort of bargaining chip, right?" Vexen didn't nod, which was affirmation enough for Naminé. "But he's already got me, I'm not going anywhere. He doesn't need Roxas to keep me in line. Roxas… Sora will be here soon enough, so what's going to stop me after Roxas is gone?"

"I think it's best for both of us if we abstain from this topic. Perhaps, Marluxia would be the better choice to discuss this with." Vexen said apathetically.

"But really, what is…oh." Naminé felt the familiar pitter-patter of her heart rate speed up as she realized exactly what the final plans for her were. She had understood that they would get rid of her, and after Sora arrived, Marluxia would have no need for her.

Organization XIII, on the other hand, always would have a use for her in their plans to conquer the separate worlds. Erasing the minds of figureheads, rearranging facts for peasants, there were several uses for her. And she had always relied on that safety net. She always had Organization to protect her as well as imprison her.

But Marluxia would need her gone as soon as Roxas was no longer there to serve as her blackmail.

"I get it." Naminé said, a resigned feeling overwhelming her. She was a liability and would have to be dealt with. Her plans had to accelerate. She had to be free sooner than later.

She could feel it like the heart racing in her chest.

Sora was coming.

* * *

Axel was on the couch again, slipping back into sleep after watching over Naminé's empty cell for half a day. He was irritated that Larxene had neglected to mention that Naminé wasn't even in there, only to find out that she was with Vexen discussing who-knows-what.

He grit his teeth, willing his endless anger to recede for the time being. He would always find something to be angry about, no need to—

"Axel!" Axel's mouth dropped open slightly, not believing his luck. It would never end.

Naminé was in the room, sitting on top of the podium, one white sandal dangling off her toes and the other already fallen to the floor. Her expression was sullen as she bobbed her foot up and down, a nervous gesture. She had one hand buried in her hair, tugging on the roots gently as she gave a small smile.

"Sorry to bother you," she started, but stopped the apology as he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I mean…sorry, but I need to talk to you."

"Really?" Axel said, his hands lifting into the air in an exasperated pose. "I can't imagine why else you would come to the dream room. To plot, maybe? You want to talk to me? I wouldn't have guessed." Naminés.nose wrinkled and her mouth tightened.

"I don't have time for our niceties, the mockery can wait." She said more firmly than she ever had. She hopped off of the podium and walked towards him before settling on the armchair across from him. A little distance between them made her more comfortable. Axel opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off quickly.

"It concerns Roxas. Intimately." Axel was quiet for once, practically yelling 'go on'. "When I was first taken in by Marluxia, before you joined and before I knew that Vexen was partaking in this… upheaveal, I was taken to the lab for my normal measurements. As usual they were—"

"Can we cut to the chase? Because if this is as important as you say this it, then we're wasting time." Naminé took another breath, steeling herself for the delivery that she was sure would crush any idea of her escape into nonexistence.

"I reordered some pieces of Roxas' memory."

"Reordered?" Axel said slowly, the anger thinning his voice.

"Basically moved some conscious thoughts to the subconscious."

"You mean erased, then?" He said quickly.

"In a sense, I guess—" An idea was blooming in Naminé's mind. Deception wasn't the only thing that she was learning from Axel.

"You guess! When did you do this?" His eyes widened. "Today—with Vexen." Axel shot off the couch, hands buried in his hair, head tilted upwards, anger roiling off of him. Abruptly, he rounded on her.

An angry smile was splitting his face. "I would expect this from Marluxia, but from you?" He glanced at the walls, looking for some help or agreement. A harsh laugh was followed by a growl. "If I wasn't so pissed, Naminé, I might have applauded you. Excellent maneuvering."

This was the crucial part of her plan. If Naminé didn't say this right, then her plan could fall apart. She had worked too hard for this to go to hell.

She just had to be patient.

"What do you want to bargain for with this?"

Just what she had needed, now for her part. "I need the plan to be accelerated. I need to be far away from Castle Oblivion before Sora arrives. Preferably long before he arrives. Time to escape and hide myself would be—"

"What memory did you take from Roxas?"

Naminé paused, unsure of what to say. She could create an elaborate lie, but too easily she would forget. The truth was easier and just as accommodating.

"His knowledge of Sora and what would happen to him if he were to come into contact with him." Axel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Most likely counting to 10. A growl. Make that 100. "I also removed the mental blocks that I had implanted to repress the urge to seek out Sora. It's only a matter—"

"I know," Axel said, cracking his fingers, trying to find something to alleviate this anger and stress that was building up.

"In exchange, when you release me, I'll have Roxas with me. We'll travel for a while—"

"No way, witch. I won't let you take advantage of him."

"It's the only way I'll do this," Naminé said fiercely. "I won't risk you killing me after I escape. So I'll take Roxas with me and reorder the chain when I feel safe from you." Naminé knew what he was going to say, so she continued. "You'll just have to take my word that I'll go through with it. And we will be trusting my word over yours because I'm not the one working for a black organization."

Axel stayed silent, unnerved by the ferocity that Naminé was exhibiting. She was finally adapting to her environment, taking on the characteristics of the savages that made up the Organization. Inwardly, he smirked, laughing at how the games had been turned on him so horribly.

Outwardly, he said, "Deal." Now he would have to start adapting his own plans for this newest addendum.

* * *

When Axel had left finally, a few minutes after their bargain, he had hung his head and left.

Naminé's breath left her in a shuddering rasp and she sank into the couch. Pretending to be serious and devious was taxing.

But she had to lie to Axel. She knew that he had already been devising some kind of plan that would benefit him. She wouldn't have guessed that the tables would turn in her favor, but apparently neither did he. Originally, Marluxia had manipulated her into modifying Roxas' memory to keep her in line, but now it was to her advantage.

Marluxia was using Roxas to blackmail her. She was using Roxas to blackmail Axel. Axel was trying to save Roxas in his own twisted way. Now that she thought about it, she sounded like one of the bad guys. But if Roxas knew, he probably would understand why she was doing this. In fact, he wouldn't mind because she was saving both of them. Now, she only had to execute the plan correctly and then he could thank her. Until then, she would just hope that he didn't find out that she could be just as ruthless(or try to be) as them.

She smiled though, pleased with herself. Who would've thought that she could turn the leverage in her favor.

She fell back, sprawling out along the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"Holy crap, I'm pretty good at that."

* * *

Allright, some movement. Yay. I wrote nearly all of this tonight. Rather, this morning because it is about 1:00. I need to go to bed. I travel for six hours tomorrow. I'll be brainstorming though. Sorry for the long delay. I hope you enjoy this chapter and welcome the new reviewers. Thanks.

Cal


	6. Bent

Please, please, please accept my profuse apologies. I've heavily neglected this fanfic, but thanks to one review (one review, people) I decided to give a quick peek back at the fic and got inspired to write again. I couldn't believe that one person served as a swift kick in the arse to get me moving again. So thanks to SpiritoftheGauntlets, tremendously. You and the fellow reviewers saved this fic.

And to MeowSap, don't give up on my yet. College is being rough on me (late night wrestling matches with my Literature books and boxing matches with my Sign Language text would take a toll on anyone).

I'm back on track and hopefully will produce more quickly. Now, all I have to do is set my Itunes to repeat on Utada Hikaru's Sanctuary (one of two songs I listen to profusely in order to write this fiction).

Disclaimer: As per usual with anyone familiar with fanfiction, I do not own Kingdom Hearts nor any of the ensuing characters.

* * *

Bent

Chapter 6: Bent

( Or Imperfection)

* * *

Naminé was nervous. Days had passed since she had put her plan into motion, and no one had come calling on her. Deprivation was a plan that captors used to slowly break down the prisoner, but Naminé couldn't fathom any reason that they would use this on her. They had her trapped, why ignore her?

She wasn't sure how many days had gone by; there wasn't a calendar and she had no regular sleeping schedule. The only contact feebly allowed so far was the food appearing on the white column-podium to her left. It wasn't the deprivation of food that was bothering her(she'd survived worse). It was the deprivation of people. As a Nobody, Naminé had known only the small portion of her life and that was already limited to so few people that she understood her need for contact. It was a constant ache to have people around just to acknowledge her presence.

All she had done for the past few days had been drawing to pass the time. Art always reflected the artist, she had heard, or maybe innately knew, she couldn't tell. She stared at her most recent pieces, the five she had drawn since Vexen had insisted upon having pencils and paper provided. Her violet and green pencils had been diminished to willowy nubs barely longer than her pinky.

The two had been mixed extensively to make up for the lack of darkness that the pencil that called itself black allowed. Naminé was getting restless. Even trivial things like tapping her fingers were getting repetitive. There was nothing to do but draw and sleep.

A familiar tingle raced down her spine as she lined up the five drawings side by side. Axel was asleep and in the Sanctum, but she wasn't feeling up for a visit. With Axel, it was like pulling teeth. Unpleasant and unwanted. He'd call if he wanted to talk to her.

She had been in a red mood today, but that particular pencil had snapped days ago, so she was stuck with the yellows and blues. And while primary colors were fun, they were a little too pretentious for Naminé's taste. She preferred more subdued unlike the eye-rending white of her prison.

Naminé would never think of white the same again. She glanced down at her clothes, a small black shirt that Larxene had been forced to donate and a spare pair of black trousers tied around her waist with a faded black sash. The only piece of color in the room was her. She was the impurity. She stuck out like an eyesore. _Finally an idea to fit the maker_, she thought dismally.

Today felt different from the monotony of being locked up in the room. Naminé usually stuck to drawing people, but today she was visualizing locations. Places she knew she never seen. All except one. For the first time she felt the image of her Inner Sanctum spring to her fingers.

The couch, the podium, the bookcase, everything was present. Everything was white and blue, boring pale hues. The remaining four pictures were all stark in contrast to the Sanctum. They were dark, mixtures of midnight blues, forest greens and velvet violets.

One piece was a cave, unseen, unfamiliar. The picture worried Naminé of the fact that it should have bothered her, but instead it felt comforting. A dark abyss that meant something to her, but she didn't know what.

Those feelings brought other emotions to the surface. Resentment. Jealousy. Resignation. Her Other had many memories, and so many of them were happy. Now, they were starting to impress themselves into Naminé's consciousness. It was just adding salt to the wound.

_My Rejoining is forcing itself to accelerate. _Was it Sora's doing? She felt the compulsion to be near him like a gravity drawing herself to him. And everyday she knew that Sora was one day closer. It scared and thrilled her. She had so many questions and so much fear. She had to protect Roxas.

No one deserved to be absorbed into nothingness.

Naminé's body was stiff from hours of lying on the ground, unmoving. Her cracking back was a testament to that. A shadow traced a path across her pictures and Naminé looked around trying to find the source. She didn't know where they were, but someone was here. No one would ever accuse Naminé of being alert.

Something lashed out across her face, spreading like fire on her cheek. She yelped and rolled over, dodging towards the couch for protection. She set her back against the couch cradling her cheek in one hand and holding the other out in front of her.

"That was your first and only warning," Marluxia said, standing tall and dark against the room's wall. "Roxas wishes to speak with you and I will have you say nothing of what has transpired so far." Malice was all he was offering, no cajoling, just plain fear.

"I'll be leaving you two by yourselves, but know that I will be listening." He pushed off the wall with one foot and came to a squat in front of her. His proximity should have scared her, but what was one more blow?

"Just one word, Naminé. One slip up and I end all of this. I'll kill Roxas. I'll remove your safety net. All of this leniency we've had with you will be ripped away and you'll pray for death. I won't even give you the mercy of Rejoining with your Other. Absorbed into nothingness will be a mercy for what I have planned for you."

He left as quickly as he had come in, a dark portal serving as his exit.Naminé reached out and ran her hand through the vanishing dark smoke.

Naminé expected to be jarred and shaking from the visit, but much to her chagrin, she felt confident as if she had been the one to ruffle Marluxia's feathers. Though she hadn't.

For once, she had a grip on the people in power. She had an influence. She was disastrous. She loved it. The excruciating light rippled above Naminé again and she stared up at it, welcoming the glory. _Go ahead, knock me off my pedestal. I'll just climb back up._

Larxene descended, a strange look carving her face as she studied Naminé. Her feet lightly tapped the floor as she was grounded. Larxene was placid, unspeaking. She was confused by the witch's act. Naminé had been imprisoned for weeks, her spirit had been broken once already. Larxene had witnessed it, reveled in the sound of Naminé's cries. The witch's only possession, the ragged dress, had been discarded after it had finally fallen to pieces. Leftover clothes had been thrown at her.

She had been drowned, whipped, scarred. She was malnourished. She was filthy. Her hair was matted against her head. She was unwashed, black circles marred the skin under eyes. She should have been defeated, a shell of herself.

But here she was, a malevolent triumph lighting her eyes. A small, obstinate smile twisted her pale lips. Larxene couldn't imagine which part of the witch's soul was igniting this rebellion.

And for once, Larxene almost didn't hate the witch. She admired the courage and fortitude to not be crushed under the Organization like so many before her. And that made Larxene hate her all the more.

The witch's Other was responsible for this. Naminé had no idea what courage was, but the Other had provided it when her other side had been so terribly lacking.

Larxene let the spiteful comments rest in her mind. For today, she would allow the witch to have what was left of herself. It didn't seem like anything would impede in that anyways.

"Roxas is in the south lounge on five. Do you think you can manage, witch? The responsibility isn't beyond you, is it?" Larxene said, unable to keep all of her contempt absent.

Naminé's smile vanished, but the demeanor didn't. "Get me out of the cell and I can."

Larxene touched the back of Naminé's head and Naminé closed her eyes. Vertigo twisted her mind and when she opened her eyes, she was in the Southern wing of the 5th floor. Alone.

Naminé thought about heading to the lounge immediately and waiting for Roxas, but a thought crept into her mind. Down the hall and to her left was a heaven-sent dream waiting for her to take hold of it. She glanced towards the lounge thinking, _he won't mind if I'm a few minutes late, _and sprinted down the hall for the bathroom.

* * *

By the time Naminé had finished with her shower and arrived at the lounge, Roxas was sitting comfortably on an armchair, eyes closed, legs crossed casually ankle over ankle. If the room was a vision in white, then Roxas was the antithesis in black, his entire mass draped in dark cloth, his cloak hanging off of one uncovered shoulder. Naminé felt like launching herself at those blonde tresses and prying open his eyelids so that she could glimpse his stunning eyes, the color of icebergs.

But she didn't. Roxas was a solitary creature, and didn't have the same appreciation of touch that Naminé was missing so dearly. She made herself respect his decision of physical absence, no matter how much it grieved her.

She sat in the chair opposite Roxas, removing her sandals and tucking her feet underneath her. "It's nice to see you again, Roxas. Were your travels safe?" He didn't move and she added, "And spoils worthwhile?"

Roxas cracked an eye open and looked at her, no trace of emotion obscuring his face. "If by spoils you mean information regarding the keybearer, then no, I've been unsuccessful." Naminé hid a grimace at his apathetic tone.

Roxas ran a hand over his face and sighed loudly. "I'm sorry. I've been neglecting sleep, but I really wanted to talk to you as soon as possible, barring sleep or not." Naminé didn't panic, but suspicion welled up in her mind. She like Roxas, appreciated his company even, but they didn't really have a need for each other, other than through Organizational proceedings.

"I want to be blunt. I'm aware of you—" Naminé's eyes widened and she clenched her teeth. Marluxia was going to kill her. "—with my memories. I can tell that my chain is corrupt. Of my short lifespan, parts are missing. It was careless and the gaps were very noticeable, distinctly not lapses in my memory. You did sloppy work, Naminé."

Naminé fought the urge to cringe and blush, winning both battles. Her raised voice was telltale with embarrassment. "You were one of my first attempts at manipulation. Excuse the amateur errors." She wanted to throw her hands in the air, but subdued herself. "How about I fix that and make you forget that you even know I messed with your memories?" She smiled sweetly prompting Roxas to scowl slightly. "I promise that I am far more efficient these days."

The door didn't collapse off its hinges and the windows weren't shattered, so Naminé suspected that Marluxia either wasn't listening, or this wasn't a tremendous blow to their plans. _So what if Roxas knew?_

Marluxia couldn't blame her for not being adept at memory manipulation when she had never done it before so early along. She had to learn how to use her talent just like everyone else. No one was immediately a master. Well, everyone except Roxas and Xemnas. They were inexplicably good at everything they were supposed to be. Xemnas, the scholar was brilliant in scheming and cloak-and-dagger plots. Roxas could dual-wield keyblades when others weren't even worthy of _holding _one of the swords.

She stood, approaching Roxas on barefeet, a honey-sickle smile on her face. Roxas looked at her, caution lighting his eyes.

"Naminé, we've always had a good relationship. Be careful where you tread now." Naminé craned her head in mock-harmlessness. _Who, me?_

"I've offered to fix it. Now let me repay you for your friendship and reorder the chain before Xemnas or some other big-headed member notices us. You're all I've got Roxas. Let me fix this," Naminé said pleadingly, convincingly. Roxas sat quiet for a few moments and Naminé stood just out of reach, wondering if her captors were ready to break the door down yet and end her life of nothingness.

Roxas' accusatory glance dimmed after they had sat in silence. Apparently, he had made his decision.

He took a deep breath, the serious look on his face knitting his eyebrows.

"I'm putting a lot of faith in you right now, Naminé. Don't fail me here. I would hate to have you betray me and force me to seek repercussions." Naminé's fingers twitched at her side, muscles tied into agonizing knots. Unable to lie suitably, Naminé nodded and walked towards Roxas, placing her hands at his temples.

Roxas took a deep breath, preparing himself. Naminé narrowed her eyes, studying his reaction.

"What was that for?" she asked. Roxas looked up at her. He was as still as a statue.

"This process used to hurt. That I remember."

"You actually remember me doing this? God, I must have been terrible," she moaned. The corner of Roxas' lips turned up when she said that and her shoulders drooped in disappointment.

She smiled brightly then, straightening up and said, "Well, I'm much better. This won't hurt a bit. I don't break chains these days, I unweave them." Leaving over, she placed a light kiss on his forehead. Her eyes felt wet and heavy, a weepy smile replacing the brilliant one. Roxas mouth hung open limply as she accessed her powers.

"I'm so sorry." She hoped that Marluxia was watching, otherwise this would all be for nothing. Tears were running from her tightly shut eyes as she weaved a brand new chain in his mind.

When she finished an hour later, Roxas head lolled to the side crookedly. He was unconscious and would need time to recover from the manipulations. Unfortunately, so would Naminé, but she didn't feel like asking for help, so she resigned herself to falling asleep in the chair, stomach growling painfully, but not enough of a distraction to pull her from Morpheus' clutches.

* * *

When she woke up, the scent of amber filled her nostrils, an unpleasant scent if ever she could remember one. The carpet was as she remembered, white and comfortable against her cheek. She was back in her prison. Blessed Familiarity. A blessed quiet to the buzzing in her ears.

"Ahoy," said the obnoxious voice. Correction—she was back in her Inner Sanctum. Only there would Axel take such liberties.

Such as walking on the ceiling for amusement.

Naminé tilted her head to stare at him as he danced on the rooftop, flames shooting from his fingertips for no apparent purpose.

"Dreams are fun, aren't they?" His good mood would have diminished hers if she wasn't so drained.

"Fabulous," she crooned, wishing for nothing more than sleep to knock her unconscious(again) and to snore to her heart's content. Figuring that she wasn't going to be resting anytime soon, Naminé imagined her paper and crayons, wishing for them to appear in front of her. They did.

Axel sat on the ceiling for a long while before Naminé heard his footsteps descending on the wall as she scratched away at the paper.

She sighed as another crayon split under the grip of her fingers. Even in dreams they were fragile. Naminé imagined Axel smiling at her dispense, his pale complexion flushing with laughter at the dream's trivial reality. She grabbed another one from the floor, orange cream. It was slightly bowed to one side from her grip.

"Why are you using the bent crayon? It's about to break, can't you just imagine another one?" Naminé narrowed her eyes at him, the sunflower on her paper forgotten under Axel's scrutiny.

"Nothing's wrong with the crayon," she defended. "It's not perfect, just a little bent. It still serves the same purpose, even with its slightly skewed perception."

Axel snorted, curiosity getting the better of him. He stood over her, examining her artwork, a wilted sunflower and a black sun.

"That's a little morbid for your taste, isn't it?" Axel said, toe edging against the paper, wrinkling it. Naminé looked up and him and scowled, flattening the crinkled edges into perfection again.

"Artist's don't have the same sense of morbid taste or of beauty. Perception is the artist's prerogative. This black, blue sun is dark in the meanings of hue, but it is still a necessary light to create life. At least on this world it is," Naminé said quietly.

"That piece of scrap paper contains a world?" he pressed.

"Figuratively, yes," she said, sounding weary and strained.

A chuckle emitted from Axel appreciatively. "Naminé, I think your mind is starting to warp from the imprisonment. You're twisted."

"Maybe I'm bent like the crayon. Maybe _you _are bent like the crayon," she said casually, never taking her eyes off the picture.

"Artist's perception," Axel argued, smiling smugly. Naminé smiled for real, appreciating how Axel actually listened and could recount what she said.

Not wanting to burn the bridge they had just built, Naminé remained quiet, deciding whether she should tell him about Roxas.

"Roxas came to see me today," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

_How did that just slip out? Oh, crap, _she thought, seeing the look on his face darken perceptibly.

Axel's lazy smile faded and his mask was back in place. "He just got back from Elizabethtown and noth-nothing new came up," she stammered. Where had that come from? She was used to dealing with Axel. He should have been uncompromising now, not distracting and scaring her.

"And?" Axel said, weaving his way around the couch as he paced closer to her.

"And he almost got me killed. Marluxia was watching the room and Roxas felt the need to relive our old memories of the Before-time. He knows I messed with his memories," she said quickly. Axel's cloak slipped to the ground and she could see his hands now wrapped in wrist-length black gloves. They were clenched, fingers curled tightly into his palms.

A smile lit Axel's face, a gloating triumph that she hated. He was satisfied and pleased that Roxas knew about her meddling.

She wanted to quell his smugness quickly. "And then I rearranged his memories again." Axel's mouth fell open and his hands flew up into his hair, tugging at the red tufts. He growled and yelled loudly, crouching low to the ground and then springing back to his feet.

She held up her hands, trying to stave his assault off, but she knew it was coming anyways.

"You what?!" Revulsion echoed in his voice, pain, horror. Every imaginable hurt lay in those words. This was going to be miserable. All she wanted to do was protect Roxas. But self-preservation was just as important. She had to save herself to save Roxas.

Rage reflected in Axel's green eyes as he cornered her against the couch. It reminded her of Marluxia only that morning. _Don't run_, she reminded herself.

"He still has no idea about Sora and I'm worried about him," Naminé said, voice catching as Axel raised a hand to strike her. She was sure of it and ducked her head, preparing for the blow.

"He's safer now. I promise I didn't make the memories worse. Marluxia was going to kill us both. He warned me," she cried, the words pouring out before she could coherently put them together.

"I want to save him!" she yelled, face buried against her chest, barely able to see Axel with her hair falling across her face.

She looked up from the ground at Axel and she tried to be passive as astonishment tickled her stomach. Axel's lime-stone exterior had cracked for a second, a softness in the core of him accidentally exposed. She could see it in his eyes, in his face, in the way that he wasn't beating her senseless.

"Naminé," he tried. "Damn it, Naminé." He repeated her name weakly, trying to find the anger to banish her, hurt her, crush her, make her tremble in fear, but he couldn't. They were both moving towards the same goal.

Saving Roxas.

"You're hopeless," he said, voice quiet, but as strong as ever. He rested his forehead against the couch over her shoulder, his larger form dwarfing hers against the couch. He maintained the small distance left between them, neither moving in the silence.

"I put a warning in his mind," Naminé said in a small voice, not wanting to provoke him further. "It's a mental stimulation that should keep him away from Sora for the time being. It's stronger than any barrier I've ever put up." Axel's breath was even against her shoulder, but she heard the leather of the couch groan under his twisting grip.

"And of course, none of this is your fault." His words were harsh, but calm. He backed off of her and sat on the table, hunched over, head in his hands.

"No," she said steely, "It isn't."

"Always the arrow, never the archer, huh?" Axel looked up at her then, confusion filling his face and his eyes darted from side to side. "The castle," he said quickly.

Naminé sat up and then she felt what Axel must have. A little late, but better than never. A wave of power rushed over her mind trying to signify something. But power could never convey a message so easily, at least when wielded by a human. The castle, however, was almost a sentient being and was the only thing capable of sending this kind of feeling to everyone inside.

Naminé's skin felt hot, clammy. Like a heat wave was pouring over her.

"Can you feel that?" Axel said, voice deep, caution lining it like a dull edge.

Naminé's heart sped up, the four chambers felt like they were going to tear each other apart. Axel noticed the look on her face, studied how her eyes got panicked and she stopped breathing.

"He's here."

* * *

Who's here? I won't kid you. I think you all will understand who is here. If it isn't Roxas.

I'll be quite honest, I dropped a hell of a lot of plot hints in the chapter. If you didn't, don't worry about it. It only makes sense to me because I know what I want to happen, but even then, I still am confused. So we are all in the dark together. Hooray.

Also I didn't quite mean to, but other allusions are dropped. Mostly music and so forth, but they aren't that obvious, I think.

Gosh, look at how savage Naminé is getting. I didn't even know she'd be developing this way. Hell, even Axel has been changing. Small things mostly, but occasionally a ginormous hint is dropped on the reader's head and that always bothered me.

Anyways. I hope you enjoyed. Turns off Itunes. Sleep well people because I know I will.

Cal


	7. Disillusion

Read the bottom for the Author's note.

Disclaimer: As per usual with anyone familiar with fanfiction, I do not own Kingdom Hearts nor any of the ensuing characters.

* * *

Bent

Chapter 7: Heart

(or Disillusion of the Heart)

* * *

The brilliant daze of the sunless room was a little outlandish in his opinion. How could anything be so bright without a legitimate light source? The thought in itself bothered him. He had never cared before, so why should he care now about where the measly light came from?

He was situated on the couch, legs draped over the side, black clothing nonexistent. Instead, he was wearing a checker-sleeved jacket and pants that were even odder. Neither was Organization XIII attire. Were there consequences for not wearing the cloak? He had never thought to ask.

The sound of a sigh as quiet as a mouse drew his attention to the left. Blonde, little Naminé was rocking on her heels, a delicate smile on her face. She was serene, angelic, anticipatory. What was wrong with her?

She watched him for a moment and then her smile widened, white teeth gleamed. She moved, twirling around the room in hapless circles until she circled behind the couch. She was lithe, graceful unlike she had ever been before. The white dress that hung at her knees had flitted around her, a white halo around her waist. Her blonde crown glowed with an inner light, her eyes sparkled with mischief. Maybe something was wrong with him.

"Naminé," he called, but she didn't respond.

Only that eerie smile was her response. She leaned over the couch, elbows bracing her face to admire him.

"Who are you?" he asked, suddenly defensive and ready to summon the—correction: _**a **_keyblade, no _the_ keyblade—and kill her before blood was spilled over that grin.

The Naminé seemed pleased with his question and giggled. "I," she said, placing a dramatic hand on her chest, "am your interpretation of Naminé. I am here to pass along a message from the _real_ Naminé, or as real as she can get."

Her laughter sparkled again.

"She would get a kick out of that. The _real _Naminé, that is. No such thing after all. The _real_ Naminé is her Other." She tilted her head and sighed. "I, for one, would love to be that Other girl. After all, she has Sora."

The Naminé clone shot up abruptly and stiffened. Her visage split and oozed, melting into the Naminé he had come to recognize, dressed in black with an ever-present frown marring her face.

"That's really how you see me?" She scowled and rolled her eyes. "I mean, no one is that ambivalent, that…flaky. I have a brain, I swear, Roxas," she said indignantly, crossing her arms.

Roxas found his voice, albeit it was low and shaky. "You've always been a rare creature, Naminé. No one can deny that."

Her hands flew out pleadingly. "But that?" she implored.

"It's better than this…" He gestured at her pallor form garbed in oil-slick black, a gray pallor starting to seep into her normally sun-bright skin. "—masochistic self-interpretation."

"Trust me, this is the real Naminé, grungy, black and _evil._" He laughed when she said the last word.

She recovered quickly, "Never mind your deranged fallacies. I didn't come here to idly chat. Times up. I tried to have this happen the easy way. I _purposely _made my first memory altering on you weak and breakable, so that you could remember, but I guess I underestimated my work. The chains were amazingly resilient to unraveling."

"My first altering? I've had two?" he asked quickly.

"You've just arrived back from… well, wherever you went. We're in the parlor, level five. I'm supposed to be rearranging your memories right now, but I need you to know this." She stopped, voice sinking lower in desperation.

"He's here, Roxas. Sora's here."

Roxas tried to process everything that was going on, but there was too much. He kept coming up short.

"First things first: What are you doing in the parlor? No one _ever_ comes in here. There's no reason to."

Naminé took a deep, steadying breath. "You need to have all your memories in tact for the upcoming battle. I can't save you if you go running off to confront Sora, only to get absorbed. I'm here because…" She paused, eyes becoming heavy, weighted with knowledge that neither teenager should have. She met his eyes, the fierceness in her voice rose. "I'm here because if I die, I just can't leave you helpless with your memories torn. You, more than anyone else, doesn't deserve this."

Her voice settled to a whisper. "Organization XIII doesn't deserve you."

"That's why?"

Naminé took the two simple words into consideration, the constriction in her heart acting as a bridge to other buried emotions.

"You give me hope, Roxas. I think…I think that if you are worth saving, that maybe, just maybe, someone somewhere thinks that I'm worth saving. I want to believe that, Roxas. Really, I do. And maybe I'll survive this and go live somewhere peacefully. Maybe Hollow Bastion. It seems the most familiar." She imagined a dark red head following her.

Her heart stumbled again. Such a stupid thought.

"How are you doing this? I thought that…memory altering was the extent of your powers." Roxas picked at the sleeve of his checkered jacket and wondered if Naminé had subconsciously picked it out for him.

An imitation of an arrogant smile pulled at her lips. "You think that manipulation is all that I can do?" She laughed, the delightful sound that even the Naminé clone had failed to get exactly right. "I'll have you know that I am just as proficient at memory fabrication as well. What you're seeing now is a false memory that I created to replay for you. Ingenious," Naminé said, "I know."

Naminé shook her head. "We're veering off track even if it is to stroke my ego—" A small smile. "—but really you need to hear this. Axel and I have been planning to get you out of the Organization for months."

"Axel?" he interrupted.

"Yes, Axel," she said impatiently and held up a finger to keep him silent. "But for this to not all be in vain, we'll need to escape. Hopefully, it will be with me, but…" she trailed off. Then a mournful smile lit her face. "But you'll know what to do if… I don't make it," she said quickly.

"Gosh, I'm so melodramatic these days." She shook her head again, a wry smile replacing the previous one. "I'm going to show you a place in my mind. When you wake up, this is where I want you to go and wait for Axel. If I happen to show up, great, but if I don't, just get out. Leave."

She knew that Roxas wouldn't leave if the castle was under siege. Another reason that she had wanted to access his memories. She wouldn't tell him that she had laid a nearly unbreakable, desperate impulse in his mind to get to that room as soon as possible. Making him aware of it could cause trouble. Some things were better left unknown.

"By the way, before I forget." Even Roxas smiled here.

It was too easy, he couldn't let the barb go. "The memory witch forget something? That, I would like to see." A small groan emitted from her.

"Now, as I was saying." Her voice grew soft. "I really like that jacket. Don't forget about it, kay?"

Roxas and Naminé stared at each other for a moment or two.

"Don't die," he said, half-jokingly. The other half was heartbreakingly serious. Someone cared about her memory and it nearly broke her apart. Stay strong, she reminded herself.

"I've got Axel," she lied easily. "He'll protect me. And then he'll protect you. Not that you'll need it. There you go, getting me distracted again."

"Now about that room." And she explained everything that he'd need to know, leaving out parts that could involve her gruesome death. Or worse, her absorption.

All the while, Naminé didn't notice that her white dress had once again replaced her black attire.

* * *

The dream Sanctuary wasn't of any use to anyone anymore. The plan had to be accelerated to sooner. To _now._

Axel needed to get to Naminé, but the castle had gone nuts. As he rounded another corner of Castle Oblivion's endless labyrinth, he recognized the sounds of battle, but—

"Axel, hey. Yeah you. I can smell your stench from anywhere. Burning, brittle—" The voice called from a nearby hallway.

Of course, Zexion. Who else would say, hey! I can _smell _you. Axel made short work of the lengthy hallway, standing stock still at Zexion's side. A sheen of sweat ran down the bloodhound's forehead. In front of them, heartless were rampaging against each other and every now and then, Axel swore he saw a Nobody in the fray, but strangely he couldn't _feel_ the nobodies, their signature absence.

"I don't sense the nobodies. What's—"

The scowl on Zexion's normally passive face almost startled Axel, but he subdued the feeling immediately.

"That's because the heartless think they are attacking Nobodies. I'm projecting the illusion of Nobodies on each of the heartless. They aren't smart enough to realize they're slaughtering their own brothers."

"And you're casting a cloak on yourself, so that they can't see you. Why don't you just fight them? It would be over in a second."

Zexion gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "One: I'm practicing. The Organization has been neglecting my usefulness lately. Two: fighting's too easy. I prefer this cloak and dagger method. It's… much more satisfying."

The hallway suddenly was alight with an inferno. It died down almost immediately and all the heartless were gone.

"New trick?" Zexion said, raising his eyebrow. He smelled the minute amount of fear rising from himself. The display of power was careless and awe-inspiring. "Been practicing, I see."

"Something like that," Axel said, strolling down the hallway now. "Oh, Xigbar called for you earlier. He wants your defense on the rear gate. Something about hiding it behind illusion. Sora's not powerful enough to dispel your illusions yet."

Zexion scowled again at being reduced to gatekeeper. They had no idea the potential he possessed. He had yet to unleash it. Eventually they'd understand and regret their complacency. The thought placated him now.

"Sora is most likely already inside the barracks. His scent is stronger than ever before." Zexion flared his nostrils again. "And he's not alone. The silver-haired one is here also."

"Riku?" The other keyblade wielder? Axel groaned and looked skyward.

"They aren't here together," Zexion added. "The scents come from alternate directions." He grinned like the cat caught with feathers in his mouth. "He must have made it through the rear gate already. Pity."

Axel's jaw was clenched, wire-tight. Zexion's perception never ceased to amaze. He was so…constantly alert.

As Axel started to walk away, he heard Zexion call to him. "And where are you heading off to, Axel? Assigned to the west gate?"

Axel half turned, pausing in his stride. "Oh no, Zexion, it's much better than patrol. I get to play bodyguard."

* * *

The smoke at the top of the room had started to build. No light would pierce that dark cloud, brilliant or not. And it was growing darker by the moment. It was the heartless trying to break into her prison and Naminé must have smelled appetizing because they were relentless.

"Marluxia!" She yelled, knowing that in reality her captors were the only ones likely to save her. No one else knew where she was. "Axel!" The clouds grew darker and more fervent with her words. The tenor of her voice masqueraded as bravery.

If the heartless were going to break in, then she wouldn't take it lying down. Practically tripping over herself, she ran to the desk and overturned it. She grabbed hold of leg and braced her own leg against the underside of the table and used torque to try and wrench the leg into breaking. It groaned and Naminé struggled with it for a moment before it snapped, giving way.

She toppled over, righted herself quickly and then backed into the circular wall. She would try to keep everything in front of her, keep her back against the wall, protected against attack. Unless those heartless happened to be the sneaky low-ranked ones that flattened themselves against any surface. Then they would have no trouble getting at her back…

The top of her cell hissed open, pressure from the outside leaking in and a large white door fell down and crushed the couch and buried the podium.

And then her prison was a war ground. The low-ranked heartless crowded her room, accompanied by the soldier heartless. As one drew closer she swung horizontally, clubbing its head to the side and then bringing the leg over her head, she swung down again, collapsing the heartless' head.

She swung again as the other's swarmed her at once and her arms started to ache from the rapid swinging motions as her arms propelled the club back and forth. One slipped past the fray and swiped jagged claws at her side. She screamed and tumbled to the side, holding her wound. Small rivers of blood leaked between her fingers, but she pressed harder into it, staunching it as best she could.

They paused for a moment, scenting the newly spilled blood in the air and then crawled towards her. A black shadow eclipsed the room and then a tall, cloaked figure dropped into the room. A massive cloaked figure. The heartless circled him and then started to stalk slowly around him.

Not Axel, she noticed disappointedly. He might have been impressed by her actually fighting the typecast of damsel.

It was Lexaeus. It took only two swings of his massive tomahawk to clear the room of heartless. Naminé was minutely jealous, but instead stood up from her crouch and thanked him. He nodded, silent as ever and then grabbed Naminé's hand in apparent question. He saw the blood, but just shook his head.

"I'm fine, it just stings. Nothing serious." He took her at her word.

Large hands grabbed Naminé under her ribcage digging into her side scrape and jumped up. She was so proud when she didn't whimper. The disorientation didn't bother Naminé so much as violating the force of gravity did. They landed softly and he set her down, the balls of her feet made a minuscule tapping noise. He didn't make any sound at all. He was huge and inhumanly graceful. What an odd combination.

"This way," he said, putting a hand at her back and gently urging her forward. It was then, that Naminé finally recognized the room that held access to her cell. _The parlor. _How…irritating.

"_No one ever comes in here," Roxas said._

She didn't have time to curse the room before Lexaeus was rushing her out and down the hallway dispatching the minor groups of heartless as he went.

Like a spark, something in her brain switched on and a feeling in her gut began to build, achingly sweet before she recognized it.

Hope. It was something she wasn't familiar with and yet…

This feeling wasn't hers. It was completely alien. It was her Other influencing her, taking over.

"Sora," she whispered. Sora was acting as a catalyst the closer she got. She was remembering things. A foreign beach. The way the waves licked at her calves beckoning her into the ocean. But then the waves grew larger, forcing panic to clench her throat. The waves wanted to swallow her… Her essence. Her memories.

It made her want to cry out, to say it's so unfair. _Please stop it, _she begged.

And in the next silence, a voice answered hers, tugging on some string that was attached to her.

_Kairi, _it whispered. So seductive that it blocked out all other sensations and she wasn't running anymore. She was floating… and there he was. The source of her despair. Sora.

Sora, cloaked under the brown halo of hair, spiky and resistant and she, she was Kairi. And the way he smiled at her. Pure saccharine that melted her soul.

The vision of him didn't shatter as she had expected. It looked more like the color had been drained from it and another image was overshadowing it. It was a shadow, who's shadow?

Another voice, nowhere nearly as seductive, but powerful in its own right broke her thoughts. And how easily it melded into her mind. She had no security from it.

_Save yourself,_ Naminé,_ You're a nobody. Live with it. _It held a harsh edge of reality and the tone of truth that she empathized with.

NO! No! No! NO! She was Naminé! Not this other, Kairi. Kairi was pure, she was happy; she was the safety net for Sora and the silver-haired boy. She was home to them. She was hope.

Naminé was destruction, disaster incarnate. She had a purpose and a destiny. And she was perfect the way she was. _She was worth saving._

Naminé turned, physically aware of her surroundings once again. The hallway had heated up.

Axel was near.

Lexaeus, startling fast, pushed Naminé behind him and then planted the tomahawk in the ground directly in front of him, burying it a foot deep before he crouched behind it. From both sides, twin flame turrets shot past, burning the surrounding oxygen before dying out.

A soft voice, intoxicated with battle echoed in the hallway. A languid laugh filled the room.

"Sorry about that, thought you were more pesky heartless."

Naminé instantly perked up and leaned around Lexaeus' wide bulk. "Pesky?"

Axel laughed loudly, the torpor of battle slowly slipping into him. He held one chakram in his had, the other was firmly buried in the wall beside them. The tomahawk had deflected it. That had been the large metallic noise.

More heartless appeared behind Axel. He rounded on them, spinning the chakram menacingly in the air, green and blue flames shot from the sharp points and he _laughed, _delighting in death

Power corrupts, Naminé thought absently, but she had to admit. Power flattered him, suited him well.

The heartless in face of the flaming wheel of impending death scurried off and Axel followed close behind, baying as disappearing from view. Lexaeus had a strange look on his face and glanced at Naminé from the corner of his eye.

"Yes," she agreed. "He's quite mad." The thought made her laugh. The look that Lexaeus fixed her with next said clearly that he thought _she _was mad.

They followed at a slower pace, gradually making their way through the hallways at a slower, but safer pace. They didn't want to run into Axel again as abruptly. He might really incinerate them.

Well, _ashes to ashes…_

The room suddenly opened up into a large, blossoming staircase. It reminded her of Beast's castle, but how would she know what it looked like? At the top, more heartless were gathering and Lexaeus stepped forward to rid the room of them, leaving Naminé behind to back between the wall and a large statue.

She heard chaos below her on the ground floor, but wasn't able to see it, crouched against the wall. The tenor of battle cries was a warm, brisk noise. The pleasant sound soothed her in a way no one's voice had ever affected her before. This wasn't her memory, but it didn't matter. She indulged in the peace just the same, her eyes clenched furiously as she fought it simultaneously.

Light flared hotly and suddenly the heartless were fleeing. There were too many, Lexaeus couldn't hold every one back and several slipped past. For once, his stoic demeanor slipped and his eyes widened as he swung his tomahawk, destroying half the heartless that were approaching her, but not nearly enough.

"Run," he said, louder than his voice had ever risen.

But Naminé was frozen, that memory of peace had seized her so tightly that when the panic overrode it, she was already stuck. Surrounded.

A brown-haired figure dressed in black and red with an incandescent sword hovered before her, arms spread wide for balance with one foot tucked beneath him like a bird. He was practically flying, but he froze in motion when their eyes met.

A pull at her heart sent a gasp from Naminé. His mouth was slightly ajar as he landed in a low crouch, keyblade raised in readiness. They stared at each other, an eternity of understanding in one moment. His heart recognizing hers.

The heartless shattered the moment, immediately knowing that he posed far more danger than the small, petite meal of a girl.

He spun, sword sweeping and connecting, easily removing the threat. He did a back-flip as easily as she could breathe, the arc of his sword cutting into a heartless, dispersing its shadow. He knocked another back with the handle to its head and sliced another in half. One by one they all fell and suddenly he was in front of her and Naminé had never felt so terrified in her life.

To value someone else more than you could ever value yourself. Whatever she felt was life- threatening… to want to give yourself over to something like that.

"Kairi," he whispered, reaching forward to brush a hand along her cheek. Blue eyes were buried in sadness, but underneath it, Naminé knew dwelled a hope and a happiness that could never be fully understood.

Naminé flinched at his touch. It was nice, but it wasn't what she wanted. Even though the memories and the impulses of her Other craved nothing more than to launch herself into his arms.

"Naminé," she corrected and the illusion must have slipped away because hurt crossed his face followed by an innocent mistrust before he bounded backwards as flames cut between them. Before she could scream, a hand was around her waist and she was weightless, the air whooshing out of her lungs as she was slung on a hard shoulder. The hallway blurred as she was rushed away. Crimson spikes tickled her jaw. In the distance, she saw Sora reaching for her.

She reached back…

A shock bounced her against the rigid shoulder again, knocking coherency back into her. "What was that about?" he growled. Naminé was breathing heavily and it was hard to hear him. He gave her another jostle and she grunted at the impact.

"I don't know." A low mutter from her befuddled brain.

* * *

When Axel had deemed it safe, they stopped and he set her down. Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor, arms outright to brace her. She looked up to meet Axel's hard-set, accusatory gaze. _If looks could kill…_

"It was Sora…"

"No kidding," he said in exasperation, upper lip curling to reveal teeth. "Do you know any other _chosen ones_ with crazy brown spikes?"

"It was my Other," she tried to explain. "It felt like she was inside me. Like she was _me_."

"That just means your being weak." Typical Axel. Always having to knock her down a peg, but it was good for her, she reluctantly thought. "You've got to defend yourself. Enough of this weak, boneless babble. If you wanted to, you could resist her. You don't have to respond to her every beck and desire." Was he hinting at one desire in particular?

Naminé wanted to explain it. That glorious and repulsive feeling that had combusted in her chest when she saw Sora.

"Have you ever felt love, Axel?" She asked in a sullen, demure voice. Axel scoffed and crossed his arms, skepticism etched on his face. "Well, I have now. It's not something to be taken lightly. One look and…" She shivered and her eyebrows knit, worry tightened her eyes.

"It took one look and Axel, I was willing to do anything he asked, no matter how terrified I was." Axel watched her closely as she closed her eyes, struggling to say all of this. "I never want to feel that again," she whispered harshly, fists clenching into her sides. " I've been helpless during my entire life—no matter how brief," she added. "And by the strength in her feelings, I was rendered helpless with one look. One look," she echoed.

"Axel, if I could ask one thing of you, no strings attached, would you do it for me?" She said, eyes soft with apprehension.

Axel studied her, and his body language told her he would refuse. He was rigid, eyes severe, mouth tight.

"Depending on what it is," he said, breaking the silence. He leaned against the wall. "But I always expect something in return. So what is it?"

She paused, knowing it was what she wanted and yet so hard to say. "Please, keep me away from Sora. Never ever let me be near him again."

A suddenly comprehending Axel let out a bark of laughter, looking oddly satisfied and out of place. A crooked, mirthful grin made her bite her lip. One hand was cocked on his hip, expecting retribution. "That I will do. You looked pretty pathetic in that trance he got you with."

Now this was something she was used to. "Pathetic?!" She yelled, forgetting herself, then quieting her tone. "Pathetic? You've never even been near your Other. I hope that he's a simpering baby, _just like you_. And when you meet, you'll be reduced to tears, a sobbing, helpless heap—" and she was just getting started, getting distracted—

When Axel pulled her close suddenly, her heart picked up, frantic palpitations fluttering like mad. And it was nothing like the controlling feel of Sora in her head and heart. That was distant now under this new siege. She was short, tucked against his chest like a missing piece she'd never felt and it haunted her... because it was delusional and sickening and could never. Ever. Be.

Then she realized the reason for his proximity. Heartless. Heartless hopping and bobbing, merry that they had prey to feast upon. Too stupid to notice the largest predator in the room was crimson and fury incarnate.

A harsh breath escaped Naminé and she saw a deranged heartless, four times her size, jaw dripping with frothy spittle, yellow eyes focused on her. She knew that it was imagining her ripped open before it, stomach opened in a red ruin. She was still alive as it feasted on her and ate pieces of her nothing and Nobody body. But being a nobody wouldn't cease the pain.

She trembled, bravery subsiding under something far more primal, a survival instinct. She wrapped a hand in Axel's cloak and the other found its way to his side carefully avoiding the chakram braced against his hip as she burrowed into his chest. He stiffened, a reaction so small, she almost missed it, but she didn't move. Fear delegated that she didn't.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and taking in the scent of amber. That horrible smell she had hated, but now associated with him. She guessed that it was okay to like and hate the smell, just like she liked and hated him.

A corded arm wrapped around her shoulder delicately and slowly turned her to face the heartless.

Heartless of all shapes. Small shadows that littered the floor in darkness. The soldier heartless surrounded the large guardians, bursting with anxiousness as they crept closer. A barrel-spider edged closer, two legs propped against the wall, the other two braced on the floor as it scuttled forward.

"You should see this," he murmured close to her hair. Was he touching it or was her imagination fracturing under the stress? "Understand everything this means. Watch them burn, Naminé." She felt his burning warmth at her back, one arm slung around her shoulders, protective, yet dismissive. His free hand, gloved, she noticed, reached over her shoulder, using the crook of her neck to stabilize it.

"Burn, baby, burn," he muttered and fire so dazzling bright flared upwards in columns, scorching the ceilings. The heat was nearly unbearable, but the screaming was so much worse.

In the midst of the red-orange mist of heat, blue flame was brightest, slowly warping into white fire, the quintessential flame. The creatures were all on the floor now, running away, only to collapse to the floor, writhing in agony. A cry worked its way from her throat as she watched the shadow's skin blackened and fall off. Her knees started to tremble, almost gave out until Axel squeezed tighter and she focused enough not to fall.

All the while, Axel was silent, serene. That fire was solely and completely him, merely an elemental extension.

When it reached for her, deceptively enticing, she shrunk back against him further. Only because she wanted to touch it so bad. The orange brilliance licked at her again and this time she met it, hand extended and the warmth didn't burn her, only lit her skin in an orange-white flush.

The fire slowly died and when Axel started to pull his hand back, he withdrew Naminé's as well.

She was shaking, she noticed and held so tightly that she hadn't realized that she wasn't standing on her own any more. Her legs had long ago given up, but Axel's arm now at her waist supported her and she resented it. She wished that she had fallen to the floor rather than to have been braced by someone so much stronger than her.

What was left of the bodies was crackling ash and even the embers in that were fading.

"Do you understand?" It was the first time she had ever heard him say something so meaningful and the voice was soft, almost casual.

He was laying himself out before her, something she knew he had never done before. He had never cared what others had seen him as, now she only had to understand.

He was deadly, the ash proved that. He was controlling and full of alluring danger that would suck her in before she realized that she was in over her head, The fire rampaging only moments before attested to that. He wasn't soft, he was anger. He had been created for war. There was no room in his life—his existence—for anything soft. Fire wasn't tamed. Fire certainly didn't settle down. You either succumb to it or you fought it until it was extinguished.

It was selfish and had a severe intelligence hidden beneath passion that no one could touch. It was malevolent and insane in its irreverence of everyone else.

"Do you understand?" He repeated.

It made so much sense. He would kill her before he could ever imagine an inkling of love let alone respect of her.

"Yes," she said in breathless misery. She didn't cry. She was far too brave for that. She leaned back taking one last moment to memorize her illusions. He was solid, weighty, made of hard edges well veiled under the cloak. She hadn't realized how much smaller she was than him until this one moment. She had always compared herself to him in mental aspects, never physical. She felt lost in the black cloak hovering over the edge of her until she stepped away.

She couldn't turn to face him. She didn't want to know what look was on his face for once, to understand what he was feeling. She was too cowardly to face the knowing contempt for her, a pure brilliance he could never touch.

"For my memory," in case I die, "Pretend that I meant something to you, okay?" He didn't say anything, but she didn't want to hear an answer anyway. She'd pretend that he'd said yes and for now, that could be enough.

"Let's go," she said. As she walked forward, the ash made a soft sliding noise under her feet. She dipped two fingers down into the ash and swiped a mark across her chest, two diagonal lines underneath her collarbone.

"A reminder," she announced before he asked an inane question.

"Morbid witch," he said. He was already getting back to normal, such a quick rebound. He touched the soot at his feet as well. "Heartless filth."

"Yes," she said. "I am."

* * *

Sorry about the longest wait… Again. I'm thinking two more chapters and all of you can have me out of your hair for as long as you want.

This was the easiest chapter for me to write yet, but I desperately want to know what you've thought of my interpretations. Let me know, people! Share the knowledge.

Anyway. Thanks for the continued support.

Cal


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